


Convalescence

by City_Of_Paper_And_Ink



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew is a little pasty but not a vampire, Canon-Typical Violence, Demisexual Neil Josten, F/F, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Neil gets hurt and has to recover?, POV Neil Josten, Physical therapist Andrew, Professional Exy Player Neil Josten, Uncle stuart makes a phone call, We also have cats, it wasn't supposed to be this long, just vampire vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25042801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/City_Of_Paper_And_Ink/pseuds/City_Of_Paper_And_Ink
Summary: When Neil finds himself with a leg injury and out two weeks of practice to rehabilitate, he finds himself down in Pennsylvania for treatment. But no one mentioned that a certain blond boy by the name of Andrew Minyard would be his physical therapist, or that he was so intriguing, or that he was so good looking.
Relationships: Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard, Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker (All For The Game), Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Neil Josten & Katelyn, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 26
Kudos: 191





	1. Crash and Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello. It's been awhile since my last fic, and this one's even better (in my opinion) because I finally collected enough of my brain cells to write a multi-chapter fic! I also want to thank the book The Goldfinch for having the word 'Convalescence' in it and immediately this idea came to mind, though I'm not a doctor so we'll see how this fic goes. Anyway, I hope you enjoy one "I'm fine" Neil Josten in this first chapter. <3

Neil Abram Josten had outrun and outlasted many issues throughout his relatively short life so far; his father, for one; his (premature) death, for two; and his mother’s last wishes, for three. The latter happened to be the catalyst for the former two, but by now he was too far to stop and reconcile them. 

But where he stood now at the airport, he knew the stupid mistake he made earlier was going to cost him two weeks away from Exy, from his life—he could not outrun this. Neil just hoped that something good would come from it.  
.  
.  
He had been at Exy practice: his bailiwick. However, two hours into the normal five, he had positioned his footing wrong while trying to obtain the ball from his teammate Justin, and he tripped. His racket clattered to the floor, arms straightening out to catch himself from the full force of hitting the ground. Immediately his leg was on fire; it was not unlike the pain he had felt when he had been kidnapped by his father and tortured until his uncle had shown up, but missing the blood and fear of snapped tendons. Laila, a fellow striker and one of his only friends, had halted the scrimmage when it was clear to her that Neil couldn’t get up, still half-delirious in memories of the pain his father had gifted him.

“Hey,” Laila said, her hand next to his shoulder but not touching him: heat radiated from the source, giving his brain something to latch on. Neil swallowed, the sound loud enough to drown out the scuffle of feet moving toward him as his teammates came to see if he was okay. He gave a perceptible nod to Laila, allowing her to grasp his shoulder and help him up from his sitting position on the floor. The pain flared from his ankle to the back of his thigh, and Neil took short but stable breaths to stop himself from having a panic attack, telling himself that the injury wasn’t serious; he could still feel his leg, and he could walk on it (with help). 

With Laila’s arm around his midsection, he hobbled off of the court. He could now make the connection that it was his left leg, as well as other observations that allowed his brain from fixating on the pain and paranoia: the noise of the air vents, sounds of Exy rackets being shifted from hand to hand, the sweat from both him and Laila due to the nonstop practice for the New York Beavers. 

Exiting through the court door, his coach and their team’s nurse met them. Realizing there was no opportune place for Neil to sit except on the hard bench, his coach told them to go and situate themselves in the boys’ locker room while he decided on who to put in charge of practice. Neil could just hear Coach Melfield ordering a ten-minute break before the boys’ locker room door shut. He didn’t know why they couldn’t just go to the nurse's room, but nonetheless Neil sat down on the somewhat comfier seating—the wood benches were favoured by him over the cold steel any day—and with Laila’s help he was able to bring his left leg up in front of him. 

Neil felt sticky as the fluorescent lighting took on a sullen yellow tint as he watched nurse Lauren go through movements with his leg, asking if she could put pressure on certain areas, while Laila sat next to him. She was talking quietly; a hushed tone in her voice as she tried to distract Neil. Laila was one of the only people who knew about his life; from his early years on the run with his mother, to his father catching up with them; his escape and life alone for years through high school; and then to community college where he played Exy to escape the horrid thoughts of his father finding him. Neil still didn’t know how he was alive. The sheer luck of his Uncle Stuart finding him before his father had taken a cleaver to his legs still made him shudder, as if the weapon was still poised at his legs, waiting to be used. 

What surprised him the most however was the call from the New York Beavers to play for them after college. Neil hadn’t known any teams had been watching him before his skirmish with his father, and was partly considering going with his uncle back to England to recuperate and integrate himself into his mom’s side of the family properly with the Hatford gang, since he had no plans after college. However, with the new offer on the table, Neil had decided to take the deal and finish the rest of college and then move from Montana—where he had been situated during that time—to New York. Stuart had resisted for the small amount of leverage he had, being his uncle of course—before Neil brought in the trump card: that his mother hadn’t wanted him associated with the Hatford gang or any gang or that matter, even though Neil was already connected to the Wesninski’s by default. 

He still kept in touch with him though—weekly phone calls and care packages full of food since the family knew that Neil could barely take care of himself. He realized that he would most definitely have to call Stuart when Lauren had a final opinion on his leg. 

Reeling back in from his memories to Laila’s voice, he realized she was talking about her girlfriend Alvarez who played for the Pennsylvania White-tails. She had been exuberant all week due to their scheduled game against them this Friday, and Neil had been looking forward to meeting Alvarez for the first time, though he felt as if he already knew her from Laila’s incessant chatter (which he would playfully make fun of her for).

The absence of touch on his leg brought him to look at Lauren as she stood up from her crouched position, her countenance not betraying anything overtly terrible, but not jovial either. Neil swallowed, and heard himself talk, though he couldn’t remember opening his mouth, the sound gravely and quiet. “Well?” 

“It’s not terrible; I was actually expecting this to happen sooner since you tend to run yourself ragged out on the court,” she said formally, going over to the sink to wash her hands, “it’s a compilation of both tendinitis, which has conglomerated over the past months it seems in the thigh and knee, with a sudden strained calf muscle—a tear.” Lauren came back over to where Neil was situated and sat a few feet away from him. “So it’s actually pretty normal, especially for an athlete like you, but I will have to talk to your coach about it and confer with what he believes you should do.”

Neil was barely hearing Lauren over the pounding in his ears, but he heard enough that his fluttering heart had finally started to calm down; he knew little enough that both tendinitis and a strained muscle didn’t equal any snapped tendons or injury that would permanently end his career, but he still felt uneasy that he didn’t know what would happen to him. Laila jostled his shoulder, and he looked over at her to see a small smile playing on her lips. “You’ll be fine Neil. My girlfriend had a strained muscle, and it was just a few weeks of ice and ibuprofen. Plus she complained the whole time and managed to coral me into feeding her ice-cream from the tub, so you’re not that bad off.” 

Neil smiled weakly back. More than a few days off of playing Exy was like a knife to his heart, and he would know. But it was up to what his coach would say: he was the one with Neil’s competence in interest. 

Lauren heard Laila’s remark, and nodded at her. “That’s right—at least the first part. Mostly it’s just icing the muscle, however with the addition of tendinitis we will most likely have to extend both that period of rest, and also PT—physical therapy—so your range of motion for your left leg will be similar to how you are used to moving.” 

“Can it be cured?” Neil asked, slowly moving his leg from side to side while still laid against the wood bench, feeling the pain that radiated from both his calf and his lower thigh by his knee. 

“The strained muscle will not be a problem, just ice and rest will do it good. Tendinitis though,” she pursed her lips, “that depends on the severity of it. You usually see this in people over forty, however as I said earlier with you conditioning you do your joints are under severe stress quite often.”

Neil didn’t really know what to say at that. His whole life had been built around two things: running from his father, and playing Exy. The former wasn’t an issue anymore, but the latter was, and that was more painful than his injured leg to consider. Before his mind could trap himself further however, he heard the locker room door open and Coach Melfield come in. 

Lauren stood up and opened her mouth, but Melfield held up a hand before she could start. “I do want to listen to what you have to say, and I will, but I cut today’s practice short, so I would like to clear out of the mens’ locker room so they can change.” 

Neil looked at coach Melfield, surprise evident on his face. In all the years he had been playing for the New York Beavers, they had never called a practice short except for the time their goalie’s wife was in labour and a few of their teammates wanted to go in support. He didn’t know why he would cut practice short now just because of Neil having a slight setback with his leg; if they needed him as a striker that badly, he could probably wrestle up the endurance to play another scrimmage. 

Coach Melfield seemed to realize what Neil was thinking, and he shook his head and pointed a finger at Neil. “No. I can see it in your face that you think you can play, but this is serious Neil. And I didn’t stop practice because you got injured—no,” Meilfield said again as Neil started to counter the fact that he wasn’t injured that badly, “I stopped it because the rest of the team was having a hay-day about you, and none of them could focus.”

That remake left Neil at a loss, his brain wiped clean like a white board after being thoroughly sprayed with Windex and wiped with a cotton cloth: spotless. He didn’t realize that his teammates cared about him that much, and he opened his mouth to say something, but instead just shut it again after Laila squeezed his shoulder as a clear sign of ‘don’t fight him on this.’

After Melfield saw that Neil wasn’t going to say anything, he nodded to Laruen and said that he would meet them in his office after he was done locking up the court. Neil took Laila’s outstretched hand and leaned on her as he stood up, wincing as the pain striked up his leg like lightning: jagged and swift. Lauren silently held out her arm to help, but Neil gave her a slight small and shook his head, to which she took with a slight nod and a somber face. Lauren knew somewhat of what Neil had gone through, hell, the whole team did. It wasn’t easy to explain why he wouldn’t high five people or allow for pats on the back from his teammates, and Lauren had seen his torso when she did a drug test for needle marks. 

The team however, instead of casting him out, had taken to him like a long lost relative or sibling. They gave him space to work with, and wouldn’t push him on his boundaries, unless he specifically asked to be pushed out of his comfort zone. Usually that was asked by him to Laila, who he found a friend in his first day at practice; with her larger-than-life smile and happy personality, she didn’t care about his past, but yet wasn’t ignorant about it either. Neil always thought they made an odd pair—him the socially inept Exy player, and her with an exuberant and wholesome personality—but he found himself trusting her and vice-versa. 

As they made their way through the locker room and into the main foyer, Neil took in their small lounge area that felt more like home than any apartment or home he had ever lived in. There was a couch situated to the side by the wall, where a wooden Ikea coffee table stood stoically on three and a half properly screwed in legs; Neil remembered the fiasco of building the table, and the team's collective agreement to never go to into carpeting work after a solid three hours trying to read the directions attached with the pieces. Diagonally across a television was built in the wall for when they watched film, and a small shelf underneath held players’ stats. Along the walls were photos of their team, taken both previously before Neil joined the team, and various other pieces of paper. 

Lauren opened the door to Melfield’s office down the hallway from the foyer, and Laila helped him in and into a seat across from Melfield’s chair behind his dark oak desk. Neil could see the sun through the partially opened blinds covering the window behind his desk, and he could hear the undertone of traffic through the walls. He zoned out for a few minutes, unconsciously taking stock of any other injury that he could feel; it was an old habit that he always fell into when it was his mother him on the run, a way to pass the time by reminding himself what was a priority, and what could wait. 

Neil came back to when the office door opened and shut with a click! and Melfield appeared in his line of vision on his left side a few moments later since he didn’t want to turn around or move anymore than was necessary; Neil didn’t know what would or wouldn’t aggravate his leg, but he thought he could at least try to prevent any further damage. Melfield sat down, and Neil saw that Lauren had pulled up a chair on the side between him and Melfield. Laila still stood beside him, and Neil took comfort knowing she was still there until Melfied started the conversation. 

“I know how close you and Josten are, but since this is a more personal matter with his health, I hoped we could keep the conversation between us three.” Melfield, in his defense, looked apologetic as he said this; he knew how much Neil didn’t enjoy being around middle aged men without a friend or someone to trust, even though Lauren was there. Laila didn’t try to fight his statement, since it was legally a personal matter and she wasn’t connected in any way to Neil by blood or bond that could warrant her to stay in the room, but before she left Neil felt her squeeze his shoulder and gave him a quick kiss on the head before leaving. They both knew he would contact her after this meeting, so there was no need for words. 

“Now,” Melfied said, rearranging some papers on his desk and clicking his mouse for his computer to start up, “I’m going to start by having Lauren state what is wrong, then what you feel—pain wise—and we will go from there. Sounds good?” 

Neil thought the question was rhetorical since he couldn’t even get a nod in before Lauren commenced her recap of his injuries (again, he wasn’t hurt that bad; he couldn’t imagine telling them about the gunshot wounds he sustained on the run that he had fibbed about to Lauren during the physical, and that they were tattoos he had wanted gone and the discoloration/depression in his skin was an after effect), and then Melfied switched the conversation over to him, asking about his pain level. 

“It’s not terrible,” Neil remarked, knowing better than to say I’m fine since Laila did have to help him walk in here, “and I don’t think it should take two or three weeks to heal. I’ll be fine if I just ice it for a few days and be ready for the game on Friday.” 

“Absolutely not,” his coach replied while at the same time Lauren chided him:

“I will lie about the injury myself if you do that.” 

Neil was nonplussed; he hadn’t been injured since his father, and he didn’t understand why they were so worried, except he supposed that it would be bad for their investment in him if he got worse. 

“Well,” Neil swallowed, and Lauren motioned with a hand at Melfield toward his mini-fridge. He opened it and retrieved a water, to which was handed to Lauren and then subsequently to Neil. He grasped it like a lifeline as he finished his sentence: “how long will I be out of playing?”

Melfield and Lauren looked at one another, and Neil felt his stomach bottom out. “Well,” Melfield started, “the muscle strain isn’t what is worrying, but the tendinitis; you will need to not only rest for that as well, but I’m going to make you take two weeks of physical therapy to help speed the process and also the help with your motion.” 

“What?!” Neil sputtered, clenching the water even harder; he hadn’t rested that long even after the incident with his father, knowing that he had to go back and play to make the pro team. This felt overdone and not needed, and Neil started to object when Melfield held up a hand. 

“This is in all of our best interests for you Josten, not only will it give you time to heal your leg, but also rest your body. You work the hardest out of anyone on that court, and I’m glad this small injury happened before something else catastrophic did.” 

“But,” Neil began anew, “what about the team? We have a game soon, and I have a PR shoot soon. Won’t that hurt your investment on me?” 

“Invest—listen Josten. You should know by now that I care more about my players than any money—no.” Melfield held up his hand to stop Neil from talking, his eyes directly on him. “My team will be just fine, and hell, you’ve already made enough money for us. This will help you, end of story.” 

Neil didn’t know what to say after that, so he decided silence was the best policy. He fidgeted with the cap of his water bottle as Lauren and Melfield went over some other things about his convalescence: getting better from his injury and possibly fixing his martyr complex. After the end of the conversation, Melfield said he would have some emails sent to him about where his physical therapy would be taking place and how long his break really was. Neil slowly stood up, and found the pain was a dull throb by now. He made his way to the door, his gait hitched somewhat, and said goodbye to Melfield as Lauren and he left the office. 

Lauren asked if he needed a ride home, to which Neil stared dumbfounded until he remembered that he couldn't drive to his apartment with his leg like this. When he finally got his thoughts in order he thanked her but said he would just take a taxi home, and bid her good afternoon as they parted ways. He stopped back into the locker room to grab his phone and wallet, gulping down the water as well, and thought about changing before he left, but he caste aside the thought since that would just be more work than necessary. Instead he packed his clothing in his travel bag, took off the bandanna that had been a barrier for his curly auburn hair to stay in place, and left the building in his practice clothing, phoning a taxi on the sidewalk. 

When he finally got home half an hour later (thankfully the taxi-man hadn’t recognized him) Neil was greeted by Sir; she wound around his legs and purred, finding solace that her owner was home: he could say the same. He dropped his bag of clothes on the counter with his keys and opened the cupboard for a mug, deciding that he needed a cup of tea right now before he went through anymore life altering altercations. 

Starting the kettle on the stove to heat the water, Neil fed Sir a few treats, mindful of watching how many since the vet had given him a stern talking to about not overfeeding her, and scrolled through his phone. He saw that Melfield had sent him the email with all the information on physical therapy, and Neil set that aside for the moment as he poured out some of the now boiling water into the mug and added a tea bag, letting it steep for a few minutes before carrying it over to the couch and setting it on the coffee table. Grabbing his laptop, he powered it up as Sir made herself comfortable on the cushion next to him as he sipped his tea and maneuvered his leg onto the table to straighten it out. 

He sighed as he opened the email, and felt like this was too much fussing for a slight strain and tendinitis in his leg; the email linked him to a separate google docs, where there were four pages of various ideas and suggestions to help recuperate. It felt like they thought he was dying; he wasn’t though. He promised himself that he would last at least until he could see twenty-five, which arguably was in eight months, but still. Neil quickly scanned through the highlighted parts (both Melfield and Lauren knew him best by now that he liked to skip most directions and just play it by ear), and found that he should ice his injury and compress it, as well as citing that one reason for the injury could be because of overused; Neil snorted softly at that. He couldn’t refute that statement. 

Sir meowed and Neil looked up to see her pawing at his phone, blinking, that he had set on the table next to his tea. He chided her without heat in his voice, smiling softly, and saw that it was Laila texting him to see how he was. He sent back a message that he would call soon, and then moved his computer to the side and decided to try and follow some of the directions for his leg so his coach wouldn’t be too irate at him, but first he needed to shower. 

Later, with an ice pack on his knee and his leg properly elevated on the coffee table once again, he called Laila’s number. She answered on the second ring with a nervous tone in her voice: “So, how bad is it?”

“Well. I’m gonna have you say the eulogy at my funeral because Thomas sure as hell can’t and—”

“Neil!” Laila broke in with an exasperated voice, but Neil could hear a smile in her voice; she knew this it wasn’t bad if Neil was joking around with her. “How is it? Really.” 

“Coach is making me take a few weeks off since nurse Lauren said I have to due to, you know, the tendinitis and a strained ankle that I supposedly have. I personally don’t know how she figured this out with just prodding my leg, but I guess she went to school for something.” 

“Really! Wow. I—you haven’t taken a day off since you joined the team two years ago. This must feel weird for you.” 

“Well,” Neil said as he dragged a hand through his damp hair, “I’m trying not to think of that too much, but it’s hard since I’m leaving you basically in charge, and we both know how well that will go.” 

Laila squawked over the phone, something about her feelings being attacked, to which Neil laughed, and ended with Laila insulting his clothes and laughing about the first time the team had met him; he had looked homeless, with battered shoes and a graying tee-shirt that he had said used to be white. He thought maybe they hadn’t brought him in so fast because they cared about him, but instead worried their reputation wouldn’t continue to stand if the press caught their newest striker wearing clothing that was hanging onto him by the threads, and needing to fix that quickly. 

Neil said goodnight to Laila, and told her to go annoy her girlfriend, to which Laila laughed and said to call when he was leaving for his physical therapy that they talked about earlier, and he ended the call. He set his phone down, and Sir burrowed deeper into his over-sized baggy tee-shirt that he was wearing; she was sitting on his chest, but it didn’t panic him. She had been trained as a service animal, and Neil had been the poster boy for anxiety when he got her. Now when she could, Sir sat on his chest or close by to remind him that she was there, to stop his downward thoughts snowballing on him like they used to the days and weeks after his father’s death. 

Neil petted her thick fur and remembered that he needed to ask Laila if she could watch Sir while he flew down to Pennsylvania to do his therapy; apparently the state had a superb facility down there—one he had never heard of—so that’s where they were shipping him to. He saw that Melfield covered the expenses with the money set aside for the team, and Neil winced when he saw the bill, one again wondering if he was worth that amount. Shaking his head, he gulped down the last few dredges of tea and carefully extracted Sir from his chest to the ground. Seeing the time, he padded into the kitchen with his now luke-warm ice-pack and fed Sir before grabbing a piece of toast himself since he wasn’t terribly hungry; he could hear Uncle Stuart’s voice chiding him that he needed to put some fat on his bones. 

Neil set a reminder on his phone for the morning, needing to pack before his flight at 10:00am. He made his way slowly toward his room and settled into bed, Sir making her way next to him and curling up on his side. He turned off the lights and watched the outside light cut through his blinds; he liked New York since it was a sprawling maze, a place he felt he couldn’t be found if he didn’t want to. Neil closed his eyes, and his father’s smile greeted him on the other side.


	2. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Neil meets: his physical therapist (maybe-vampire) Andrew Minyard; Renee, who gives slightly scary (but non-vampire) vibes; and a therapy building that he doesn't know how it's still open (they must get good funding).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've finally managed to edit chapter two, and here it is! Thank you for all the love and comments on the first chapter, and I hope you enjoy meeting more of the characters and moving into the main plot of the story. Also, quick note. I'm not a professional at sports injuries, so this was completely based off of my knowledge from Anatomy class, and the internet. Okay, enjoy! <3

Neil stood outside the airport terminal, the lighting through the windows making him wince; he wasn’t used to the purer air and sunshine in Pennsylvania since he had just landed, but he didn’t mind it. He thought it was better than the perfume and foggy air of New York, though some people would argue that that was just another part of the city’s charm. 

He sent a quick text to Laila that he had landed safely, and was greeted with a photo of Sir cuddled up next to her on the couch. He smiled softly at that before calling a taxi and giving the driver the address to the hotel Melfield had rented for him. Upon arrival, he saw that the hotel wasn’t really a hotel, but more an elaborate space than he expected. Neil knew he didn’t need this to live in for the next three weeks, but he couldn’t exactly send his coach a message to say that he wanted a downgrade. 

The hotel—or more appropriately apartment complex— had a sprawling garden out front that was currently bare due to the fall season, and a tennis court that he could see peeking out from behind the building. He was greeted inside by a cleaning lady who was gracious enough to help him find his room number that he had in the email, and said she would bring up some refreshments for him. Neil tipped her before she left, not knowing what else to do since she was so unfaltering kind to him. 

Neil sat on his bed and pushed the pads of his thumbs against his knee and thigh; the flight down hadn’t been terrible due to his first class tickets, and he was grateful that his room was on the first floor, but he could feel the edge of pain becoming more apparent as the day wore on. He hoped that this could be resolved with physical therapy, or else Neil didn’t know what he would do. 

Hearing a knock at the door, he slowly stood up and made his way over to open it. The cleaning lady, her name was Maurice, had brought him some lemon water in a pitcher and what seemed to be a bag of trail mix. He remembered that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday evening, and thanked her before she left. Wandering over to the table by the window, he set down the water and food carefully. 

The rest of the evening went by slowly and uneventfully, which he was okay with. The only issue was that his mind had nothing to directly fixate itself on, so it fixated on everything; from his leg injury, Sir being in an unfamiliar place, and his nagging mind to go play Exy, Neil was exhausted by the time he went to bed. But he wasn’t even granted a reprieve there, since his dreams were filled with his father’s laughter and his mother’s screams. 

He woke throughout the night, silently grasping around the bed for a weapon; not having Sir to slow his anxiety, his mind reverted back to his past on the run. Neil finally got his thoughts under control after he almost fell out of the bed—it was a king size—trying to find where he put his duffel bag, until he remembered that the bag was now long gone in a dumpster a few years back. Sweaty, he hobbled to the bathroom and peeled off his shirt and briefs to take a cold shower, grateful that he could at least pretend to wash away the nightmares. 

The next day he went out of his room with bleary eyes to find a buffet open; he was surprised since it was so early, but he assumed that in this nice of a place people wanted to make the most of everything and woke up at 6am. He grabbed a blueberry muffin from one of the trays and a glass of water, and sat in one of the side tables, content to watch the other patrons mingle and the staff flit around to see if they needed anything. Neil always enjoyed people watching—it was one of the only pastimes that his mother endorsed for him since it meant he could also watch out for people they suspected to be following them, but he mostly did it to just see how normal people interacted: something he could never have. 

Finished with the muffin, he threw away the wrapper and set his glass in the wash bin by the kitchen area before returning to his room. He looked in the mini-fridge set by the tv and realized that there wasn’t anything that he could ice his knee with, and he wandered back to the main lobby and asked for an ice pack. It wasn’t five minutes later when someone knocked and he opened his door to find Maurice there. She almost all but pushed her way in with her arms full of ice-packs, towels, and first-aid. Neil thought he should have explained that he wasn’t hurt in any serious manner, but he had a warm, fuzzy feeling when he realized that she cared enough to bring him these—even if it was the hotel's job to make their guests comfortable. 

“Thank you,” Neil said to Maurice as she finished setting everything on the table. She didn’t look at him as she stuck her hand into her apron pocket and fished out gauze to place beside everything else. 

“ It’s the least I can do,” she responded with a smile. She looked to be about in her mid-forties, with a bob-style haircut and a dark brown skin tone. He didn’t know what else to say, so instead he dug into his pocket for another tip, to which she laughed and swatted away the money he offered up. “That’s not necessary. All I ask is that I don’t need to clean up too much blood.” 

“Oh, um. Of course,” Neil replied, embarrassed still that he had made her assume that he was, or would be, that injured. “It shouldn’t get to that.”

“I hope not. A good looking boy like you doesn’t need to get into that kind of trouble.” 

Neil blushed at that. 

It was around two hours later when Neil started to get ready for his appointment. He really didn’t know much about the physical therapist he was seeing, which spoke volumes about his growth; when he was younger he would stalk everyone's social media if they so much as looked at him. He took off the ice-pack and set it into the mini-fridge to chill again, and put on a pair of joggers and a long sleeve tee. He was grateful for his decision when he went outside and felt the wind bite into his skin in the November weather. Taking advantage of his numb knee, he kicked up his walking speed when he got out of his Uber upon reaching the building. 

Neil’s first impression of it wasn’t that spectacular; it wasn’t as ostentatious as he believed he would see, if anything it was almost underwhelming. The PT building was a faded red brick with a small garden area leading the front doors. He opened and stepped inside, and was greeted by the warmth of air from a nearby heater and a pleasant smell of what he believed was lavender and jasmine—no, maybe chamomile. At the front desk sat a young lady around his age who he thought must be the receptionist; she was a slighter build but muscle was definite on her upper body, with a warm beige undertone and freckles dotting her face. With her rainbow-coloured tipped blonde hair (that Neil thought was bleached) and a cross gracing her neck, Neil felt apprehensive about her; she didn’t seem malevolent, but there was an air around her that reminded him of Lola, a sort of atmosphere of concealed danger. 

“Hello,” the receptionist said. Neil looked around at the small waiting room, and saw there were only two other people in the room; he also cataloged a hallway off to the side, as well as three windows that looked easy to bust if need be. He realized this wasn’t a normal therapy facility; focusing on the other two people, he recognized them from a few sports ads on tv. He guessed this place was not exactly a public institution, but a more privatized place that would focus their plans around each individual patient—patients with money. Neil swallowed and hoped that he would never see the bill. 

“Hi,” he replied, finally making his way to the desk. 

She smiled at him, and then stuck out her hand. “Where are my manners? My name is Renee. I’m the receptionist and co-partner in Fox Therapy.”

Neil took her hand apprehensively. “Neil.”

“Very nice to meet you Neil,” she released his hand and opened up one of the drawers. “The physical therapist will see you right after you fill out these forms; they’re just standard NDA’s and those types of things you must be used to.” Neil faltered at that last part of the statement before remembering that of course they would know what he did for a living. He took the papers and a clipboard with an attached pen to it and sat down, away from the other two people in the room to look over the papers; he trusted coach Melfield, but he didn’t trust enough Renee, so he took an additional amount of time looking over the papers to see if there were any added sentences in regards to his safety here. 

After a tense twenty minutes, where all he did was reread the same two paragraphs, he signed the papers and checked out a few boxes, including some that he had never seen in any medical forms before. These asked if there was any general part of his body that the doctor couldn’t touch, and furthermore if he needed to be verbally asked to be touched anywhere on his body. He didn’t have time to wonder about those questions for long—though he did appreciate them—before he heard a door down the hallway open and who he assumed was the physical therapist walked out into the waiting area.

Neil’s first thought was that he finally met someone that was shorter than he was, and for some reason it was hard not to laugh at that. The physical therapist looked to be around his age, if one or two years older, and Neil questioned how this man and Renee could have started their own business. He was dressed in a black form-fitted shirt, with black armbands on his forearms. His pants were a regular pair of jeans, looser than the shirt was for his upper body, and he wore a pair of glasses that looked to be actually used rather than for ‘aesthetic’ purposes, with some darker circles underneath his eyes. Neil thought that he could possibly be a vampire due to his pasty-white skin, and his absolute blonde hair wasn’t helping the argument that he got enough sun either, even though he lived in Pennsylvania and the sun was already crushing Neil after one day despite the chill in the air. 

The physical therapist didn’t speak to him: just gave him a once-over, and Neil saw his jaw tick, before turning back the way he came and making Neil scramble up. He felt his knee give a dull throb as he quickly tried to give the papers to Renee, to which she motioned that he should bring them with his person. He swallowed and followed the man to one of the rooms off the main hallway; it looked normal enough, but not a physical therapy room that he imagined. Neil guessed today was just to go over the plan for his recovery, so he sat down in one of the chairs across from the therapist’s desk, while the aforementioned man took a seat behind his desk. 

Silence ensued. 

Neil didn’t really know exactly how these things panned out; his mother and he had never gone to a doctor or hospital during their rush across the country, and world, while running from his father. And after the whole mess with his father, Uncle Stuart had brought him to a private doctor they knew wouldn’t ask questions and who wouldn’t spill to the police about a missing boy that they had been looking for. He was lucky Stuart was as good as he was at his job, otherwise he knew the FBI would have connected his current alias to his real one by now. 

The physical therapist reached out a hand, and Neil stared at it; he didn’t seem like Renee and would want a handshake, and he was correct when the man rolled his eyes and pointed at his papers. Neil almost dropped the clipboard as he passed it over to him, careful not to touch him since he didn’t insinuate that he wanted any contact. His careful approach earned him another intense gaze, before the man turned his gaze to the papers, and Neil took in a lungful of air. The therapist seemed to pause at the check boxes, and looked between him and the papers before setting them aside and reaching into his desk. 

Out came a pack of cigarettes. 

Neil’s brain was abuzz; he didn’t think someone, even a physical therapist (especially a therapist) would smoke in an establishment like this. He was half right. The man put one in his mouth, but didn’t light it. Neil didn’t know if he was supposed to feel confused (which he was) or intimidated (which he could have laughed at). 

Neil looked around on the therapist’s desk and saw a nameplate on the side, which he had missed in his haste to sit down. It said ‘Dr. Andrew Minyard’ in bold, white letters, and Neil was grateful he could finally put a name to the man’s face. He forgot for a moment why he was even there, before his knee gave another pulse of pain and he winced due to the pain he forgot to account for. That seemed to spur Dr. (since he assumed that a physical therapist could also use the title Dr.) Minyard finally, and he put his cigarette aside (Neil hoped he didn’t waste it) before speaking:

“Tomorrow. Ten o’clock.” 

Neil was nonplussed; he wasn’t surprised that Dr. Minyard had spoken to him (that was part of the job), but the fact that what he said made no coherent sense to him until he realized Andrew was now on his laptop and apparently done with Neil for the day. 

“Excuse me,” Neil said, after a few moments of utter silence. Dr. Minyard looked up from his computer with a complete lack of emotion on his face. “Is that it?”

“Did I say anything else,” Andrew replied with an almost mocking tone, and Neil was floored by the way that Dr. Minyard already seemed so utterly done with Neil; he thought that was rude (he hadn’t even talked) but didn’t know what to reply with, so he didn’t. 

He was really wondering if his coach’s sanity was up to standards if he signed Neil up to be here; and he was considering how this place was still in business—he thought it must have good funding. 

Not knowing what else to do—since his father had beaten into him not to question people of higher authority and to leave if not wanted—he got up from his seat quickly and turned to go after a few minutes of uncomfortably sitting in the seat without talking to one another. He thought he saw a small smile on the corner of Dr. Minyards lips from action, but it was gone before he could take a proper look. Neil also wondered why he was staring at his lips in the first place. 

I must have hit my head on that floor as well, he thought as he quietly closed the door to the office, and made his way back to the main area where there was only one person sitting in the room instead of two. Renee didn’t seemed surprised to see him this early, but she did look thoughtful when Neil said goodbye to her in a manner that wasn’t dismissive; he assumed that if this is what Dr. Minyard did to all his patients the first time, then they probably came out of the room a lot more pissed for spending however much it costed to be here. Neil wasn’t that angry that he was leaving, since Renee still gave off dark vibes and he didn’t exactly trust Dr. Minyard, but his knee was starting to hurt like a bitch since he had been using it more often today and he hadn’t gotten any treatment plans for it. 

“See you tomorrow Neil!” Renee called out before Neil went out the door. He turned and gave her a slight smile; it may have looked like a grimace, but she didn’t seem dismayed by it.  
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“Off again?” Maurice asked as she deposited some new towels for the bathroom on the table that he had phoned for; he found out that if he wrapped the towels around the ice packs he was using and then applied them, the absolute bitter temperature wouldn’t dissuade him from using them more often on his knee when he was in his room. 

“Umm, yeah.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had his wallet and keys. Maurice took some of his cups that were scattered around the room; Neil tended to pour himself water whenever he woke up from a nightmare in the middle of the night as he walked around the room if Sir wasn’t there to keep him still and in bed, and he always forgot where he put the previous cups when he woke up half an hour later, so filling a new cup was easier. 

He wondered if he could pay Dr. Minyard double if he tried to fix Neil’s very broken mind, but he doubted it—the man had looked like he could barely fix his own sleeplessness. 

Neil wished Maurice a good day and, grabbing his phone on the bedside table, stepped out to his waiting Uber. It was a different driver than the day before, and this one was more prone to chatter than he liked. Neil took the onslaught of conversation heroically until he was at the Fox Therapy, in which he all but fell out of the Uber to get away from the banal conversation that had been grating against his skin. He didn’t do small talk; that was what his father had done with him when he was waiting for something or someone to show up, and it had never been in Neil’s favor.

The reception area was cooler than yesterday since today Pennsylvania had seemed to experience a heat wave in early November—though he still wore a long-sleeve to dissuade the looks toward the scars on his upper arms and forearms—and he embraced it like a balm on his skin. Renee looked up from her computer and a small appeared on her face—Neil was confused by how genuine it looked. 

“Good morning Neil,” Renee chirped, and Neil could hear the click clack of keys as she typed something on her computer, “Dr. Minyard will see you shortly. Please sit and make yourself comfortable.”

Neil wondered why she didn’t say his name yesterday, but shook it off and instead looked at the lumpy chairs, wondering what they did with all the money they were bound to be cashing in on to not buy some proper seating. He took to the least looking lumpy chair (which was still bad) and took out his phone to scroll through Twitter. 

He had just seen a tweet debating types of tea and was about to put in his two cents when he heard one of the doors down the hall open. Neil looked up and instinctively pulled his long-sleeve shirt down over his wrists like second nature; he wasn’t ashamed of the scars on his body—the media had already exploited the coverage of his scars since he wore short-sleeves while playing Exy and he hadn’t yet invested in something to cover them up—but he didn’t want to publicly flaunt them to people. 

Andre—Dr. Minyard walked into the reception area. Neil shifted in his seat to make sure he still had his wallet in his pocket without being overtly showy about it before standing up. Renee looked up from her desk with a sentence perched on her lips to take flight, but she faltered halfway through: 

“Aar—” she started, and Dr. Minyard glanced at her: quick but deadly. She cleared her throat and tried again, “Never mind.” And with another sweet smile—reminiscent to Neil of one dripping with honey on the outside and poison inside—Renee turned back to her work. 

Dr. Minyard looked to Neil for the first time that day and motioned to follow him. Neil didn’t have to scramble this time to follow, and he looked around more closely as he was taken past Dr. Minyard’s office and down a small ramp that started another hallway. One one side of the wall was the credentials for Physical Therapy, and saw a few plaques up for the different doctors that worked here; he was sure he even saw two with the last name Minyard, but he walked by too fast and he could turn around. 

They entered into a space that looked very much like a cliche physical therapy room (Neil had seen a few on various tv shows that Laila had subjected him to on nights she came over to his place and ate pizza); the usual equipment and dumbbells were situated throughout the medium sized room, and Neil could see through one of the large-pane windows at the end of the room to what looked like a vegetable garden that was nearing the end of its season. He wondered if it was Dr. Minyard’s. 

Neil waited by one of the machines—a bench press—while Dr. Minyard went over to the side where a phone lay. He fiddled with it for a moment before Neil heard music start pumping out from the jacked-out speakers up in the corners of the room. He realized where all the money was going. 

While Dr. Minyard had done that, Neil had finally taken in his appearance; he was wearing a loose pair of black sweatpants—the same, Neil thought, as the ones he wore yesterday—and a short sleeve gray tee-shirt with the emblem of their physical therapy clinic stitched on: a fox curled up around a first aid kit. He was still wearing his armbands, and Neil reminded himself that if the man ever talked to him outside of one word statements, Neil would ask where he could purchase a pair for himself. 

If he wouldn’t act like a pompous prick while answering. 

Time went by unhurried, but yet fast nonetheless; Dr. Minyard merely looked at his clipboard—which had Neil’s injuries listed—and would surmise off of that what to do with his leg rather than ask Neil himself. But Neil had to say, though he hated the music, he didn’t loathe the workouts and stretches for his leg; he had basically been handicapped for two days with nothing to do besides trying to do a slight jog—which ended up hurting. This was more like a slow burn, something he could focus on to forget about the shitty music blaring and Dr. Minyard’s gaze on him as he went through reps on the hamstring curl and later doing quad stretches. 

He really thought he could have done this at home with Laila, but he realized this was better, for some reason, calmer. 

Neil was on the ground stretching when a timer went off on Andrew’s phone, and he realized that it was already noon—he had been there for two hours. He picked himself up off the ground, his knee more tender than before, but better, and grabbed a water bottle in the mini fridge he had spotted earlier. He was just taking a sip when he was startled by Dr. Minyard. 

“What?” Neil asked as he jumped back from his presence and practically dumped the whole bottle onto his clothes by accident. Dr. Minyard gave him a look that clearly stated how stupid he thought Neil was. Neil was mildly offended by it; he hadn’t even done anything that stupid yet. 

“That water wasn’t for you,” Dr. Minyard stated so matter of factly that Neil actually felt like he was stupid. Neil looked at the mini fridge, then back to Dr. Minyard, and said:

“I don’t see a sign in the fridge that says it isn’t for patients.”

“Does everything need to be labeled for what you can’t and can touch.”

Neil smiled at that—a smile reminiscent of his father’s; Dr. Minyard said it as more of an observation than a question, but he still answered it. “I’m told that I’m not the brightest, so you might want to consider that. Besides, you probably have more money than you know what to do with. Maybe you can invest some of it into signs that help people like me rather than in high end speakers that you play shitty music on. Or you could invest it into a better attitude than the pompous one you had not only yesterday but today as well.” 

Truth be told, Neil was expecting to be kicked out right then and there, but instead Andrew huffed, one that sounded suspiciously close to a bark of laughter that Neil took as a victory, and said: “My brother picked out the ‘shitty’ music.”

Neil was surprised that he got any information out from Andrew, and that he had a brother no less. He nodded and said: “I’m still pinning the music on you, since you could have changed it, and the attitude.” All Neil got from that statement was the middle finger to which he laughed at. The undulating tension in the room he hadn’t even noticed before seemed to lessen profusely, and he followed Dr. Minyard out of the room and back toward the receptionist area. Renee seemed to be done with her work; she sat cross-legged on her chair and leisurely read a book that was propped up by the desk. Seeing them, she set it down and smiled at Dr. Minyard as he went up to her.

“Mark him down for next week, every other day.” 

Renee’s smile seemed to grow bigger as Dr. Minyard’s eyes grew more narrow, and Neil could tell something unspoken was being said between them. After a tense few moments, Dr. Minyard looked at Neil and said, “Take ibuprofen, preferably 400 or 600mg, or Tylenol. That will help with the pain and inflammation as the exercises progress into more weight focused training to eliminate the tendinitis in your knee, along with the pain of your strained calf muscle.” 

Neil nodded, and Dr. Minyard left back down the hallway. He could hear the door close before he turned to Renee and asked if he needed to schedule the appointments, but she smiled and shook her head. “It’s all done. You can come back in two days at ten o’clock. The schedule will be Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, with the weekend off. Sound good?” 

Neil nodded again, and he made his way outside into the crisp November air—a mix of cool wind and a blazing sun—and called for a ride.


	3. Unusual Observations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil learns more about Andrew, takes an unknowing break from physical therapy (which isn't promoted by the author), and pets a cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're already on chapter three and Neil and Andrew have only met in PT... I may have fixed that ; ) Also thank you for all the comments, they are very much appreciated, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

He didn’t know, or preferably want to know, what Dr. Minyard would say when Neil told him that he hadn’t taken any ibuprofen for his pain. He knew the chance of him asking was low, since whenever Neil spoke to Dr. Minyard he was regarded with the utmost disdain—and probably hated—but he was still a patient, so Neil thought that it canceled the previous assumption out...somewhat?; didn’t someone, somewhere once say that two negatives make a positive?

He said goodbye to Maurice that Friday—she had recommended him some spots to visit over the weekend that he was keen to see—and hopped in his ride to Fox Therapy. On the way he sent a text to Laila, wishing her good luck and to bring home a win for the team as well as to kick Alvarez’s ass on the court. His phone dinged not two minutes later with a bunch of exclamation points and hearts. 

When he finally arrived at the clinic, he saw another car parked out in front; it was seated right next to a Maserati—he assumed that was Dr. Minyard’s—and seemed to be a Lexus, though Neil knew fuck all about cars; when he used to drive he only worried about if it started (if he could get it to start), and if there was enough gas. 

Renee’s car (or what he thought was hers) was easier to identify as a Jeep since he had seen it everyday he had been there and which he actually liked since it offered reasonable gas mileage and the car made considerably less noise than other models to procure some sense of stealth under the cover of darkness. Though whatever her reason for buying that vehicle, Neil had an uncomfortable realization that they finally agreed on something as obscure as a vehicle. 

Done with this line of thought, Neil stepped past the ungodly expensive cars and into the building. Renee greeted him with a mundane smile which he copied, and sat down. The wait was a little longer than it had been before, and Neil passed the time between looking at pictures of Sir that Laila was sending him, and watching with a half-assessing interest as a few more patients showed up. Neil didn’t personally know anyone, but he recognized a few that were more well known than him even. His attention even caught onto Renee for some reason, and he saw the formation of a bruise on the side of her jaw that peaked out from a cover of makeup; it wasn’t too overt, but it was enough to warrant Neil’s curiosity and suspicion from how she got it. 

A door down the hallway opened, and Neil saw a tuft of blond hair reveal itself around the corner. Neil went to stand up, but when he looked up it wasn’t Dr. Minyard, or at least his Dr. Minyard. 

This man was the exact same as his doctor physically, but something wasn’t right. His face was more empathetic, which Neil wasn’t accustomed to seeing on that face, and he wasn’t wearing any armbands. Neil remembered earlier—two days ago—when he had glanced at the plaques on the wall framing their certificates, thinking he had seen two certificates with the same last name, as well as when Andrew had said his brother had shit taste in music.

The man called out for someone else, and Neil knew right there and there that his Dr. Minyard—Andrew, from what he could remember seeing on his desk—had a twin. This man had a higher pitched voice: not feminine, but not as low and gravelly as Andrew’s. Neil didn’t know how he knew Andrew’s voice so instinctively already, but at least he would be able to tell the twins apart. 

He released the armchairs he had been holding to help him stand up, and situated himself back in the chair. He looked over to see Renee watching him, and when she saw he was staring back at her, she started to hum to and busied herself around her desk. 

A few minutes after not-his-Dr.-Minyard left, Dr. Andrew Minyard appeared. He seemed to find Neil straight away, even though Neil was sitting in a different chair than two days ago (he assumed it was probably his hair)—and an obnoxious amount of people were in the room as well—and turned back around the corner and down the hall. Neil gave chase once again, and they soon entered his office instead of going to the physical therapy room. Dr. Andrew Minyard sat down at his desk while Neil looked around more closely this time to see if there were any pictures on the walls of the twins. 

Dr. Andrew Minyard was watching him with a dull stare, and so Neil finally sat down and blurted out what was on his mind before the other man started talking.

“So, you said you had a brother, but you never said that he was your twin.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “I don’t hear a question. Am I to answer that?” 

“I mean,” Neil rephrased, “why didn’t you tell me that he was your twin?”

“It didn’t concern you to know at the time.” Andrew answered. “And now you owe me a question as well.”

Neil looked at him confused, and then shrugged, “Okay.” 

Andrew motioned for Neil to scoot his chair out, and he stood up and came around to Neil’s side. “Can I feel your leg for any swelling?”

“Is that you question?”

Andrew looked at him like he had exactly one brain cell. “No,” he retorted, “it was a question on the sheet that you boxed in, and this is a physical therapy establishment. I don’t have all day for you to ask questions about my idiot brother.”

“Oh,” Neil said as his cheeks grew red from embarrassment, “yes, go ahead.” 

Andrew looked at him once more, a little less hostile, before slowly feeling along his knee that was covered by his sweatpants. He felt a hint of pain stab along the side, before Andrew stood up from where he knelt and sat back down in his seat. They stared at each other for a few moments—Neil could see a scratch mark on Andrew’s left cheek, something that he had a suspicion related to Renee’s bruise—before Andrew asked his question:

“Why didn’t you take ibuprofen like I said to do?” 

Neil flickered his eyes away from Andrew to the wall, and weighed the pros and cons of telling him the truth before finally deciding to hell with it, and answered him. 

“My mother—” Neil stopped for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut and tamping down the memories of his mother that tried to filter through his mind, trying to sort certain ones to take out like an old filing cabinet: finding only certain items that pertained to the conversation. He tried again: “she didn’t trust me taking any drugs or anything that could hinder my ability to feel if I was injured.” It was a rule that had been all but branded into Neil’s head since the time he was little, even before they ran. 

“Why?”

“If I was knocked up on drugs,” Neil said, “then I couldn’t properly tell her where she needed to bandage or stitch.”

“Isn’t that what a doctor is for,” Andrew said as a statement. 

“Well yes, but we couldn’t go to the doctor.”

“And why is that?”

“Ah.” Neil smiled at Andrew, “I believe that was your question answered.”

Andrew’s mouth formed into a taut line. “So I’m guessing no alcohol either.”

Neil hummed. “Not exactly,” he said, “I needed to feel the pain to find where it hurt, but the alcohol dimmed the feeling once it was time to patch it up.” 

Andrew stared at him for some time, looking as if Neil was a puzzle to be solved, and then opened his drawer and pulled out a pill bottle which he slid across the table. Neil didn’t know what to do. 

“Since your mother isn’t here, you're going to take these before we continue on with the workouts. It makes my job a lot easier if you comply, though you don’t seem like the type of person to do that.”

“Aww, you know me so well you emo sloth.” Neil smirked as he said that. It was both a reference back to their second meeting—though a play on words since Andrew looked better dressed than before—and also a distraction to his thoughts. Inside he was shaken by Dr. Andrew Minyard actually giving him something to help with his injury besides his usual gaze and bullshit comments. The aforementioned man glared at him from that last remark, but he needed to ask one more thing before he left. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You just did,” Andrew deadpanned, logging onto his laptop. 

Neil huffed. “Rude. I wanted to ask what I can call you. You have a twin, so I can’t say Dr. Minyard since that could imply either of you, and Dr. Andrew Minyard is too long.”

“Look who’s the lazy sloth now,” Andrew replied, but gave Neil his full attention. Neil could see that Andrew’s eyes were a caramel brown, like the coating on a candy apple; not as sweet as one though, but just as enticing. “You can just call me Andrew.”

“Andrew. Great thanks.” Neil stood up from his seat with his new pill bottle full of what he assumed was ibuprofen, and gave a two-finger salute to Andrew; his teammates did it to each other sometimes, and he thought of Andrew as a friend now, though Andrew did say he hated him and he was Neil’s physical therapist. 

Neil left the office before he could see Andrew’s face to his remark, but Neil assumed that his countenance probably didn’t change since his face stayed remarkably stoic. On the way down the hall, Neil realized that his conversation with Andrew had been one of the longest he had had in quite a while, and he didn’t understand why he was so comfortable around Andrew. He would probably figure it out eventually.   
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“Hey Uncle Stuart,” Neil said as he lit a cigarette by the coy fish pond in the back of the hotel; there weren’t any fish in it since it was November, but the architecture reminded him of Greece when his mom and him went for a few months after he had just turned fifteen. 

“Hey kiddo. I heard that you got injured, everything okay?” 

Neil breathed in the scent of smoke, and replied: “Yeah, just some issues with my leg that will be cleared up soon. I’m down in Pennsylvania for less than two weeks now before I head back.”

“Huh,” Stuart replied, “I thought healing an injury was supposed to be done in warmer weather. Why didn’t you fly over to Europe to see the family and we could have brought you to Italy or even Spain?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly my idea to come here, but Coach Melfield knows that where I’m going is one of the best places in the country, so I couldn’t really argue. Besides, too much travel would have made it worse.” 

“I suppose,” Neil’s uncle hummed. After that particular conversation was over they talked about more family related topics. His uncle said the family really wanted to meet him, and Neil said that he would come during Christmas to visit, which he knew would make not only his family happy but his teammates as well since he had never done much in terms of holiday celebration before. He ended the call after and watched the cigarette burn down to the filter before going back inside. 

It was a Saturday, which meant he had absolutely nothing to do. He stared at the pill bottle on his counter before opening it and taking two out. Andrew hadn’t said how many to take, so he figured it should be enough since his leg wasn’t hurting too bad yet. After, he did a few stretches that Renee had told him about after his appointment that Andrew hadn’t thought to mention (imagine that), and stepped back outside in a windbreaker jacket and a pair of tight jeans to sight see. 

He knew of a few shops and other touristy attractions around, but he didn’t feel the need (or want) to be around people right now. Neil chose a random park to go to instead, and found himself at Ricketts Glen. He wandered the paths through the densely crowded forests and shrubbery, and stumbled upon a waterfall; it cascaded against a mountain of rock, and Neil sat by the side of it and let the mist of water adorn his face while his mind wandered. 

His mom didn’t usually let them stay at a state park overnight when they camped out on the run; she usually had picked for them something more obscure and not as ostentatious that would draw attention, but every once in a while she would let them camp in a more residential area where he had the ability to sit by a campfire and let the mundane noises crowd his more bleak thoughts. But his favorite was when they would find a place like this. Where they could live in their own world and not worry about their father or his allies, and instead he could listen to his mother point out the countless constellation in the sky when it turned dark: Andromeda, Cassiopeia, Phoenix.

He didn’t notice the time slipped by quite so fast until he felt a buzz in his pocket. Pulling out his phone, he saw that Laila had messaged him, and he thought he felt a skip in his heartbeat as he remembered that they played last night against the Pennsylvania White-tails. Neil couldn’t believe he had yet to make a joke that he was in Laila’s girlfriend's home state and that he should just switch teams to lessen the effort of the return flight back. 

“I seriously can’t believe that you're my friend—no scratch that—best friend,” Laila spouted at him when he called her; she had picked up on the second ring. 

“I’m sorry. It’s been busy with this recovery process, but I’m free now, so tell me all about the game, and your girlfriend,” Neil replied, sidestepping the fact that Laila had called him her best friend; he had never even had a friend before her. 

Laila huffed, and Neil knew he was forgiven. That, and he had promised to bring back something for her from Pennsylvania—even though her girlfriend brought her knickknacks all the time—so she had to stay friends with him at least until he returned to New York. 

“It was an easy game—don’t tell her I said that.” Neil laughed at that and continued to listen. “But the team missed you, and I’m glad you’ll be back for the game next Friday to at least watch, if not play.” 

Neil smiled even though Laila couldn’t see. “I miss you guys too, and I’ll definitely be back if you don’t end up killing everyone through sheer torture.” Laila yelled at him, and Neil laughed, feeling a pang in his chest when he realized that his team was his home, but he wished sometimes there was someone outside of it that he could share this feeling with: that he could share his feelings for. 

Ending the call, Neil stood and slowly bent his left knee a few times to warm the muscles back up; he had done some additional research on Tendinitis, and he found exercises that push his range of motion slowly could help with the pain and elimination of it. 

He was walking down the path back to his car, kicking pebbles down the dirt path with him, when he spotted a familiar pair of black boots and realized that Andrew was coming down the path toward him. Neil didn’t know if he should say anything or try to hide, but before he could jump into the nearest shrub Andrew found his gaze, and took out an earbud from his right ear. 

“Are you stalking me Neil?” 

Neil started to sputter, but saw that there was a slight smile on Andrew’s lips, a tip-of-the-iceberg smile that Neil for some reason desperately wished he could dive deeper to see more. 

Neil collected his runaway thoughts and replied: “Are you sure you won’t break an ankle in those boots?” 

Andrew snorted, and Neil grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to drag you down to help soften the fall if I do.” 

They finally reached each other on the trail, and Neil felt his heart thrumming inside his chest cavity for some reason; it only ever reached this level when he was playing Exy, when he was so enthralled that he never wanted what was happening to end. 

“Hi.” 

Andrew looked at him with a countenance that Neil chalked up to be incredulous. 

Neil didn’t know why he was saying such stupid things, but for some reason his brain didn’t function very properly around Andrew. “What are you doing here?”

Andrew huffed, and Neil could see a small puff of air. “Are you always this thick in the head?”

Neil hummed. “Not usually.” 

Andrew took out his phone, and Neil thought that their conversation was over. He knew that Laila was an outsider for being such a good friend of his since no one could really stand him, but he thought that maybe he could have added Andrew onto at least the acquaintance list. He made a wide berth around Andrew and continued on his path to the main park area with a pain in his chest for some reason when he heard hurried footsteps behind him. 

Neil turned around and it was Andrew jogging up to him. Neil was taken aback, and didn’t know if Andrew still wanted to talk to him, or something else. 

Andrew stopped in front of Neil, and he could see that his neck and the tips of his ears were red. Neil didn’t think it was that cold out, but maybe Andrew wasn’t used to the cold November weather just yet. 

“At least I know now you can run in those,” Neil commented to break the silence. Andrew gave him the finger, and Neil laughed. 

“Why did you walk away?” Andrew asked, his voice low; Neil definitely could tell that Andrew and Aaron were only twins by their physical description. 

“You took out your phone and I thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. That’s what most people do anyway, when I talk to them after awhile—or even for a few minutes.”

Andrew clicked his tongue. “Idiot, I was turning the music off on my phone.”

“Oh,” Neil said surprised, and then smiled, “so does that mean you don’t hate me?” 

Andrew looked at Neil with a deadpan expression and said: “I hate you a little more everyday.” 

Neil laughed, and even though most people would take that as an insult, Neil’s pain in his chest lessened after that. “So, what do you usually do besides go hiking here?” Neil asked as they started their walk back to civilization, the birds in the trees chirping to one another like a game of telephone. 

Andrew shrugged and pulled his black leather jacket that he wore a little closer as a breeze stirred past. Neil thought he should have brought a warmer jacket himself than just a plain windbreaker, but he was wearing a long-sleeve underneath and thought he could make it out in the chilly air a few hours more. “I don’t do much. My brother and his wife tend to drag me places that I abhor, but they don’t seem to care about my opinions,” Andrew said. Neil looked at him as he said that, and believed he saw a flicker of emotion cross his face, betraying his apathetic feelings toward his brother and his brother’s wife. 

“Where do you want to go?” Neil asked as he kicked a rock on the train with his right foot. He heard it tumble into another, and the sound was satisfying. 

“Why?” Andrew responded, looking at Neil before returning his eyes to the trail. 

Neil answered: “Because, there isn’t much for me to do beside stay in my hotel and take your idiotic ibuprofen—” at that Andrew shook his head as if to ward of the small smile Neil could see: like buried treasure hidden away, “and I find you company enjoyable.” 

He finished his statement and he could see Andrew mumbling something under his breath, and Neil took that time to fish out a few stray leaves that had landed in his hair. When he turned to Andrew again, he was staring at Neil with a pensive look. Neil flushed, and Andrew seemed to make up his mind on something. 

“There are a few places that I don’t mind going, and I would… enjoy, if you came with,” Andrew stated, and Neil beamed at that. “But,” he continued, “I’m still your physical therapist, and therefore we have to keep this strictly professionally between us. Understood?” 

Neil wanted to say “not really” on that last part, because he didn’t really compute what Andrew was exactly referring to—hadn’t he been keeping everything professional?—but he trusted Andrew, so he nodded his head. “Yes.” 

Andrew looked at him once more before fishing out his phone in his jeans—a very nice, tight pair of jeans if Neil had any observations about it. Which he didn’t.

None at all. 

While Neil tried to look anywhere except Andrew’s physique, Andrew himself made a phone call. Under the mummer of conversation, it sounded like he was talking to his brother. After a few minutes, Andrew ended the call and they started toward his car now that they had reached the parking lot. Neil waited for Andrew to motion where he should sit, and Andrew looked exasperated (or at least how Neil read his stoic expression) before pointing to the passenger seat. 

“So,” Neil said, drawing out the vowel, “where are we heading to?”

Andrew responded as he looked in his rear-view mirror to back out of the lot—Neil could appreciate his superior driving skills. “I’m supposed to meet up with Aaron and his wife for lunch, so we’re heading back to my apartment to change my clothes, and then we will meet up with them.” 

“Ah, okay. And did Aaron have any misgivings about me joining your entourage?” Neil asked. He didn’t want to intrude, but he liked being around Andrew. 

Andrew huffed. “Nothing that he could do about it if he did, just spun his regular warnings and such.”

Neil was confused on the last part of the statement. “What do you mean by ‘warnings’?” 

Andrew didn’t respond to that, and instead started the music up on the radio. Neil was a little disappointed that he didn’t answer the question, but he guessed it wasn’t his place to know the answer; what he could appreciate however, was the taste in Andrew’s music choices. Much better than his brother’s. 

It took around fifteen minutes on various roads until Andrew parked in front of a nondescript apartment that seemed normal enough but bland in colour and architecture. Neil didn’t really know what to think of it, since he thought that physical therapists made more money than what this apartment cost, but casted off the thought. He couldn’t really judge, since professional Exy players made a good bit of net worth, but he had been handed money more than once by some people on the streets of New York that thought he was homeless by the way he dressed, so. 

Andrew turned off the car and got out, Neil following his lead. He stood by the car, not knowing if Andrew wanted to bring him in his home, but he waved for Neil to follow when he realized he wasn’t. Neil scrambled to catch up, and hoped all of these quick movements wouldn’t hinder his knee anymore than his normal activity did. 

Inside, the temperature grew noticeably, and Neil almost laughed at the way Andrew’s glasses fogged up. He followed him to the elevator, where they went up to the third floor and down the hallway a few doors before stopping. Neil had been observing the state of the apartment, and it wasn’t as bad as the outside made it seem; the place actually looked really well maintained, and Neil could see as Andrew opened his door that there were two separate locks on it. 

Inside it was cozy; an electric fireplace was stationed right underneath a flat-screen tv, and a couch and love-seat were seated around a coffee table. Beyond the living room Neil could see a kitchen island and various appliances on the counter. As Neil went to go sit down a blurry figure charged from the hallway, toward where Andrew had gone, and went up to Neil’s prone feet. It was a cat. 

Neil slowly bent his hand down, and let the cat sniff it before allowing Neil to pet them. He crouched down and rubbed along the cat’s ears before it flopped over to have its belly rubbed. Neil smiled; he was imagining Sir as she did the same thing all the time, meowing at him before he finally gave in. 

“King doesn’t usually take to people.” Neil looked up as Andrew made that comment as he returned to the living room. He had changed into a darker pair of jeans—still tight, thank god—and a dark blue sweater. “It took him weeks for my old roommate to even pet him, and still King only tolerated him when he gave him treats.”

“Who was your roommate?”

“Kevin Day,” Andrew said as he went into the kitchen to fill up a glass of water. Neil realized now why there had been a more defining amount of Exy players at Fox Therapy, and how Coach Melfield must have heard of Andrew. Kevin was a prominent figure in Exy; Neil had played him a few times since he joined the Beavers, and before that for the Moriyamas during that one scrimmage that Neil revisited in his nightmares every once in a while. 

Neil shook that last thought aside as he stood up, King meowing at him before going to harass Andrew. “Smart cat,” Neil said. 

Andrew snorted. “Exactly.”

Neil didn’t know why, but he felt like since he had met Andrew’s cat it was only fair to talk about Sir. 

“I have one as well—a cat,” Neil amended as Andrew looked quizzically at him during the first part of that sentence. “Her name is Sir. She’s currently with my friend Laila while I’m here; I miss her though, since she’s my therapy cat and helps with my anxiety.” Neil swayed from foot to foot and hoped his hadn’t ruined his still budding friendship with Andrew by spilling his anxiety on him, but Andrew nodded at him and said:

“That’s what King is for as well. After Kevin left the apartment was too quiet, even if all he did was watch Exy games and complain about my terrible diet,” Neil smiled at that, “but it was company. A way for me to know that someone was around who would tolerate me.”

“Lucky for you,” Neil replied, “cats are excellent at tolerating people, probably because if someone annoys them then they just scratch them and wander somewhere else.”

Andrew gave him the finger, making Neil hide a smile behind the back of his hand, and they headed back out the door and down the hall to the elevator. Inside Andrew asked: “What is your anxiety from?” Neil looked at Andrew, and could see that he didn’t have pity in his eyes for Neil, but a curiosity and grounding sort of look that said they both have gone through something not many people have. 

Neil swallowed. “It’s from a lot of things; Exy, people, my past. It’s usually about my father. He wasn’t a very good man, as you can probably imagine. And some nights,” most nights, “I dream about him.” He didn’t want to put his fears onto Andrew, onto this man he found so achingly familiar and safe, but he wanted to tell him something. “What about you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Andrew fidgeted with his black armbands, and Neil thought he could see a glimmer of something metallic through a slit in the side. “I was in foster care,” Andrew started, his voice rough with a gravelly quality, like there was something in his throat, “and I didn’t learn about or meet Aaron until I was older, in high school. From my adoption until then, I was thrown around into various homes.” Neil thought of that, of not knowing who had taken you in, their history and home so abstract and unknown; he thought that it might have been better living with his father those early years—he was at least able to understand his father and his bouts of anger. 

Neil gave a slight smile to Andrew. “I can’t believe we only have one cat each by now,” he commented, and Andrew huffed, but a sliver of a smile gleamed from his lips: a diamond in the rough. They stepped off the elevator and out into the brisk Pennsylvania air; Neil felt as if his lungs had lost a pound of smog from the air he was accustomed to in New York. In Andrew’s car, they kept the music on, but turned it to a low undercurrent. Neither of them talked, nor tried to make conversation, but a sort of peace settled over them, and for a moment Neil forgot who Andrew was supposed to be—or why he was in this state in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can be found on tumblr at city-of-paper-and-ink <3


	4. Colour Preferences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil finally meets the family, an interrogative Allison, and another part of Andrew he hasn't seen before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow would you look at that we're getting close to the end and they still haven't confessed their undying love for one another... oh well. Anyway hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you for all the comments and kudos; they've been fueling the whole editing process of these last two chapters! <3

Andrew pulled up to a red-brick building some twenty minutes later that looked recently up-done and upholstered; the bricks shone with a sort of vitality that spoke of new life, and the windows reflected the sun clearly. He followed Andrew inside—his thoughts returning in a slow, meandering way like thick honey from a jar— and almost let out a bark of laughter when he realized where they were eating. 

They were in a chocolate factory. 

Neil could see why Kevin berated Andrew so on his diet. 

They stopped when they got to the reception area, and it didn’t take long till the hostess directed them to their seats, with Aaron and his wife Katelyn already there. Neil didn’t know how this would go, but he thought if he could get through Andrew’s apathetic face, he could at least make civil conversation with his twin. 

“Hello!” Katelyn said brightly as they sat down opposite the couple. A smile adorned her face, and Neil took in both their appearances. He thought that maybe Katelyn was the one to suggest the dinner, since she looked well dressed compared to Aaron; she wore a daisy-yellow blouse and a muted violet skirt. But then, looking at Aaron, he saw his face shift minutely when he glanced at Andrew into something softer, and Neil thought differently. The wooden seating was grounding for Neil as he took in the new surrounding, and by habit all its exits and windows. 

“Hi,” Neil replied, and shook hands with Katelyn’s outstretched one. Andrew didn’t say anything to Katelyn, which she didn’t seem to look fazed by, and Aaron just glared at Neil, looking both disinterested in him and also suspicious of him. “Have you been here before?”

Katelyn seemed to visibly sigh with relief when she realized that Neil would help with the otherwise non existent conversation, since no one else was talking, and jumped into an explanation of being here once before for the opening, but not since. Andrew and Aaron ended up joining in for a few minutes, and then had their own muttered conversation to one another, which Katelyn seemed pleased with. 

Neil found conversing with her was actually a lot more pleasant than he would have assumed; he didn’t get along with many people, but Katelyn had a personality not unlike Laila, and she also indulged him with stories of her and Aaron working at the hospital full time and also helping Andrew out at the Fox Therapy until they hired more workers. Neil would think that Katelyn wished they would hire soon, but she seemed content with helping out, and he had an inkling that the part time job also helped Andrew and Aaron see each other more than they normally would. Katelyn then switched gears and asked what Neil did for a job, to which he responded in kind that he played Exy. Katelyn’s surprise and joy was evident on her face as she started telling him of her wild college years being the head cheerleader for her college Exy team, and spurred their conversation on even longer to the point that neither of them even saw the waiter arrive until Aaron prodded Katelyn with his shoulder and they finally stopped talking. Neil cheeks heated from embarrassment, but Katleyn didn’t seem to mind that they had talked for longer than they both realized. 

After that, the waiter took their orders and came back soon with their drinks. Neil was pleased to see when he ordered that the place had more on the menu than just chocolate and dessert, and about ten minutes later his cobb salad with caesar dressing was plated in front of him. Katelyn had gotten the same, and Aaron had a burger of some sort or the other. Andrew’s meal consisted of a monstrosity of an ice-cream sundae, which gave Neil stomach pains just looking at. 

As they were finishing eating Aaron looked at Neil once again, and this time finally spoke to him with a hint of malice: “So, how long are you here for?” 

Neil finished chewing the food in his mouth and swallowed before answering: one to delay talking to Aaron, and two because of the manners his mother had drilled into him to lessen his father’s all consuming anger at anything he did. 

“I’m leaving this Thursday to be back in time for my team’s game on Friday,” he replied, “I miss them.” 

Aaron gave Andrew a pointed look, but Katelyn gave him a nudge in the shoulder that lessened Aaron’s glare and gave Neil a small smile. Andrew didn’t say anything, and instead took another spoonful of the sundae and shoved it into his mouth. 

After they finished (Neil wanted to pay the bill since he had money, but Andrew just waved him off and paid for him and also for Katelyn, which made her laugh since Aaron had to pay for his burger himself which was the priciest dish out of all four of them) they made their way outside. Neil rubbed at his arms through his thin windbreaker when the cursed wind picked up and blew a bitter air at them. He was lamenting his own thicker coat that he had left at his hotel when he was hit in the face with something. 

Surprise be damned, his reflexes from years of Exy paid off, and he grappled the item before it fell onto the sidewalk. Holding it out he saw that it was Andrew’s jacket, and Neil could smell a hint of cigarettes and sweets clinging to the fabric. He looked at Andrew, but he was facing Aaron; Aaron looked displeased at what Andrew did, especially when Neil put the jacket on, but Katelyn smiled and they exchanged phone numbers before they left. He was surprised to find he actually was excited to talk to her again, and he promised to text her soon. 

“Thank you,” Neil said to Andrew as they hopped in his car, trying to convey his gratitude for not only the mean, but also meeting Katelyn and allowing him to impede on Andrew’s family like that. He saw Andrew’s jack tick, and started the car without answering him. 

Andrew drove him back to his hotel; he had given Andrew the address while talking in the park earlier that day (which already felt a lifetime ago) and Neil was surprised when Andrew didn’t even start Google Maps to find the way to the hotel. He felt a dull tinge of sadness wash through him for some reason at having to leave Andrew’s side, but he shook his head and tried to maneuver out of the jacket to hand back to Andrew. He almost had one arm out when Andrew clicked his tongue and said: “Bring it back to me on Monday, idiot.” Andrew muttered that last part under his breath, which made Neil smile for some reason, like he had won something of value. 

He was still staring at Andrew when Andrew made an exasperated noise and brought his hand toward Neil’s face, stopping a few inches away from touching him. Neil’s heart felt bigger than was possible to fit in his chest, and he nodded. “Yes,” he said, when he remembered the form he had filled out which stated that he needed to be asked before being touched. 

Andrew looked at him, and Neil wished he could stay in the car forever. He was still thinking about the fantasy when Andrew touched his cheek, and pushed his face to the side. “You were staring,” Andrew commented, though his voice was thick with something. Emotion? Exasperation?

Neil smiled against Andrew’s hand, and said: “You’re one to talk, you were staring too.”

“But I wasn’t staring like an idiot.”

Neil furrowed his brow. “What does that even mean?”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s too complicated for you to understand.”

Neil turned back to face Andrew with a glare, but it didn’t last long when he saw the way Andrew was looking at him. He fidgeted with the sleeves of Andrew’s jacket, and was just about to open his mouth to say something when Andrew swiped his thumb across Neil’s bottom lip. 

His mouth went dry, and Andrew looked amused at what his face must have shown. “You had some dressing on your lip,” he said with a smirk, and Neil just garbled something under his breath and opened the car door to get out. 

Oh he was fucked.   
.  
.  
Neil couldn’t remember a time like this: when his entire brain seemed to be hardwired to think of one thing, one person, and not more practically things—like remembering to stay alive. Neil lay on his bed, his sheets newly washed by Maurice (that absolute saint), and his phone out. He was about to call Laila and see how she was, and how Sir was doing as well, but all his thoughts kept going back to Andrew. It probably didn’t help that he was wearing his jacket that smelled like him, but he would go at anyone fists blazing if they suggested taking it off would help. 

The problem about Andrew (one could argue many problems) was that Neil didn’t know why he got this feeling around him. He had known now for awhile that he was asexual, with the help of Laila leafing through various pamphlets she had stolen from the doctors office as well as various google searches, and this feeling didn’t… feel like that. 

“Hello,” Laila said, answering the phone on the third ring. She sounded out of breath, but he didn’t know why. 

“Hi, Laila,” Neil responded, laying himself on his bed like a greek god, or what he thought a greek god would do—though he probably didn’t pull it off as well since his knee throbbed from the exorbitant amount of traveling today, and immediately after he flopped belly-side down on his bed. 

“Neil! You haven’t called me in like, twenty-four hours. I was becoming distressed.” He could hear her fake a swoon and fall onto her couch, and Neil gave a small laugh.

“Yeah, it’s been a little wild. I went hiking and met Andrew there, and then we went to eat and—”

“Wait, what?” Laila interrupted, and Neil could hear her pulling the phone away quickly from her ear and say something that sounded muffled. “Who’s Andrew?” she said, the phone back to her face. 

“Oh yeah, um. He’s my physical therapist doctor,” Neil said meekly. 

“You were out with your doctor!?” Laila cried out, and Neil didn’t know if he was impressed or worried that the phone speaker could output such a loud sound; he cringed, and wondered if he would need to fix his hearing on this trip as well. 

“Well. I met him in the park I was at, and then we started talking and he asked if I wanted to get food with his brother and his brother’s wife.”

“Oh my god Neil you’ve already met his family!? How long have you known him for?” She questioned him, with a sort of ferocity he had only described Sir having when he forgot to feed her at exactly six o’clock every night. 

“It wasn’t like that,”Neil responded fervently, though in the back of his mind he wished it was, “and I’ve known him since Tuesday. You know that.” 

Laila huffed. “Neil. You barely go out with anyone, even I have a difficult time dragging your ass out of the house unless it’s to play Exy or pick up food for Sir. For Sir! Not even you.”

“I don’t see why it’s a big deal,” Neil replied. He wished that Laila didn’t make such a big deal out of this, especially when he still had to ask her the more obtrusive question on his mind. 

“Do you like to spend time with him?” Laila asked. Her voice held a sort of wistful curiosity, and Neil wondered if she knew what he was about to ask.

“Yeah. I mean, it was fun. And I um… I felt different with him—like a good different! But I—”

“But you're confused,” Laila finished for him, and Neil hummed in agreement as his thoughts went through all the pamphlets that they had looked at, trying to decipher which one could match his current stress inducing issue. “Do you remember that one article we read about asexuality?”

Neil was quiet for a for minutes until he remembered one night—pizza and a cup of Earl Gray tea in hand—they had stumbled upon a site that listed the spectrum of asexuality; he didn’t think he needed to go farther into the article than just the title, since that had summed up his relationship life perfectly well at the time—like a present wrapped in a red ribbon. Laila, thankfully, had stayed on the article and read through it as she claimed the last slice of pizza.

“I read most of the article, and I think you should look up demisexual, Neil. It would be more beneficial to you reading it firsthand rather than me spouting off facts since I’m not asexual and don’t know what you feel. I still have the article on my tabs though, so I’ll send you a link okay.” 

Neil agreed, and said thanks. Before he ended the call though, he remembered Sir, and quickly asked about her. 

Laila laughed. “Well, she certainly likes belly rubs, and she misses you. But Alveraz is here over the weekend so she will get lots of love, and probably too many snacks.”

“Don’t give my cat diabetes, Laia.”

“No promises.” 

The phone call ended with a subtle click, and a few moments later a text to the website link came up on his phone. He typed it into his computer and started reading. A few minutes in he remembered he forgot to ask why Laila was so out of breath, but since Alveraze was there, they must have been doing something tiring.   
.  
.  
Neil stood outside the door to Fox Therapy, his hands numb from the biting wind and his nose red as rudolph’s. He didn’t know why he was nervous; he had read from Saturday till this morning—sleeping an unusual amount; no nightmares about his father, but instead one about a certain blond sloth—about being demisexual, and had immediately felt a relief, a rush of being seen and not an outlier in a dotted graph. He knew he had a crush on Andrew, but that was it; it didn’t mean that Andrew reciprocated any feelings toward him back. If anything, this was good—Neil could understand more about his sexuality without the fear of someone actually liking him and then him making a mess out of things. 

He tugged on his—Andrew’s—jacket sleeves, and opened the door, feeling the warmth of the heater already tugging away the cold from his hands and face. Renee was at the desk like usual, but there was another presence beside her, another girl. She had golden blond hair that fell over one shoulder, and Neil could see some extra highlights in the mix. Her outfit was not one for a physical therapy place; she wore a strapless dress, which Neil found absurd for the weather, that hugged her curves in various places, and Neil thought she had a tan going on—though it was too late in the year for it to be from the sun. Neil walked up to sign in, and she looked up from where she stood over Renee’s shoulder and puckered her lips. 

“Who is this?” She questioned, doing a slow once over up Neil’s body; he felt uncomfortable, and Renee chided her when she saw what she was doing. 

“Allison, this is Neil. Be nice.”

“I am,” the woman named Allison replied. She smiled at Neil, her white teeth gleaming, and Neil thought of a swan: something so beautiful and breathtaking that would one minutes be completely harmless and the next attack if someone got too close to their own or their mate— and by the looks he saw Allison giving Renee behind her, he thought it was the latter. Neil swallowed and signed the sheet on the desk, weary about Allison and the way she was still observing him—as if decided between friend or foe. “So, where are you from?” 

Neil wondered if he should answer that question, and decided that Allison looked the sort to continue berating someone until they got their way; he knew people like that, and also knew that if you answered them without looking suspicious, they wouldn’t find anything of interest in you. “New York,” Neil replied. 

“Ah. I have a fashion business up there. You should stop by sometime and I can get you dolled up and not wearing insulting clothing like that,” she said as she waved her hand to indicate what she was talking about. Neil didn’t know if he should take her offer or be offended by her comment of his state of dressing. He decided for a mundane statement: “We’ll see.” And turned before the conversation could delve any deeper into his life. 

As he was walking away he heard over his shoulder Allison say casually to Renee: “So that’s who the monster—,” her voice lowered substantially so he couldn’t hear until, “he doesn’t have a chance, even though he’s wearing his coat; the boy is w—” 

“Allison,” Renee said quietly, but disapprovingly, which stopped Allison from finishing her sentence. Neil was left to wonder who the “monster” was as he sat down on one of the cushion chairs until Andrew appeared around the corner and signaled for Neil to follow. As he stood up Allison yelled at Andrew, “He’s too good looking for you,” which caused a variety of things to happen at once: Renee to pinch Allison on the leg, Neil to looked confused as he continued to follow Andrew, and the aforementioned man to give Allison a glare that would have made even his father’s men cower—but not Allison, she just looked amused—before they turned into the hallway and out of sight. 

When they reached the training room with just the two of them, Neil felt his should collapse back down to where they had been hiked up the whole time; it’s not that Allison scared him, he just didn’t know her, and an inquisitive and perfunctory personality like hers always made him weary. Those were the type of people that didn’t know the world as cruelly as he did, and Neil always felt better to stay away from those people lest he incur something dangerous upon them. 

Neil set Andrew’s coat aside and started his warm up for his leg by doing a few stretches and running in place while Andrew went to turn on the music; Neil smiled when a Beyonce song came on and he realized that he and Andrew had the same taste in music. After the warm up, Neil went by the hamstring machine and worked through that while Andrew stood nearby. When Neil was done, Andrew asked if he could check his knee for any swelling.

“Well, I would think so. You're the physical therapist, or were you the babysitter?” Neil inquired with a laugh, and Andrew gave him the finger before pushing at his knee and then his upper and lower part of his leg surrounding it. Neil, uncomfortable with the silence since this was the first time since Saturday Andrew had touched him, began to run his mouth about mundane things and Exy stats while Andrew smirked at him like he knew what he was doing—and why. 

“I think we should start you on the treadmill,” Andrew said, walking over to the machine and turning it on, “your knee looks better, and since you’ve been taking your pills,” Neil huffed at that statement, “the tendonitis has lessened severely.”

Neil joined Andrew over by the treadmill, and got on as Andrew started it at the slowest speed. He thought it could go a little faster—his cat could walk faster than that, and Sir wasn’t the slimmest feline—and told Andrew. 

“Are you doing my job for me now?” Andrew said when Neil finished his comment. 

“I could. It can’t be that hard since you’re a lazy sloth with no ambition.”

Oh, Andrew’s glare could have certainly made his father’s men fall in line, maybe even Lola, and the next thing Neil knew was the treadmill was going considerably faster. Neil gave a slight laugh and punched his fist in the air, imitating Rocky, while Andrew’s lips curved into a slight smile at Neil’s antics. 

Around a mile and a half in, Andrew lowered the speed again, and Neil wished he could go run outside to stop the sweat that coated his body. His gray long-sleeve shirt was doing him no favors in terms of a respite of heat, and he got off the treadmill with the hopes he could ambush the mini-fridge without Andrew knowing. 

He had just slumped down against the wall when a water bottle fell into his lap, and Neil looked up to see Andrew standing in front of him. Neil gave a small smile and a “thanks” before opening the bottle. 

He drank his fill, and the lull of the music seemed to set them both at ease. The quietness of the place begged Neil to ask Andrew a question he had been meaning to for awhile now. “Why did you choose to go into Physical Therapy?” Neil asked aloud.

Andrew looked up at him from where he had been tying his shoelaces that had gone undone. “What do you mean?”

“Like, your brother. He went into nursing. I’m not saying that being a physical therapist isn’t a valiant job, but you could have gone into anything, you're smart,” Neil said. “It’s something that I’ve thought about more and more.”

Andrew shifted to sit up straighter. “You know some of my past. I always knew that I wanted to help people, and it may only seem that we take in Exy players, but we attract a large number of kids as well,” Andrew said, his voice growing quieter but no less fierce, “and those kids I can help. I may never be able to help anyone emotionally, but I can help kids and others physically; that they can look in the mirror and see that their body isn’t broken or ruined.” He broke off, and stood up. Neil watched as he walked toward the speakers, and Neil understood the need to realign yourself with the world—to take a break from talking about something so personally. 

Neil sat, quiet. His thoughts were whirling, but he could tell exactly what Andrew was hinting at. Andrew didn’t want to be a counselor, but he could help in other ways, and that’s what he believed in. To see people manage to recover through your own help. A nurse or doctor doesn’t see the full recovery process, only the part that their particular skill is needed for, but a physical therapist would see everything. He waited until Andrew returned back and sat down before he spoke again. “I have one more question,” Neil said softly. 

Andrew huffed. “Of course you do. Go ahead,” he added, flicking his wrist as if to indicate he could ask. 

“Where did you get your armbands?” Neil inquired. He had been meaning to voice this question since they met, but other things had gotten into the way—namely his crush on Andrew—which had driven the question to the back of his mind. 

“This pair I received from Allison, the day we opened Fox Therapy. Renee said she had some insight to make sure Allison didn’t make them pink—” Andrew said, which made Neil laugh, “and she helped to add the sleeves inside them.” 

“It’s just… I would like to buy a pair, so I don’t have to always wear long sleeves,” Neil said, motioning to his aforementioned dress wear. Andrew looked at him for a moment, pensively, before standing up. 

“Would you like to try mine?” He asked, and for a moment Neil thought he had heard wrong before Andrew asked again, this time exasperation heard in his voice. 

“Yes,” Neil garbled. And he took Andrew's hand to stand up. When he let go, they were closer than they had been even in the car, and Andrew cleared his throat. “We can go to my office for this, in case Allison comes barging in.”

Neil hummed in agreement but added: “She might need to be here so she can obtain the measurements. I need them to be perfect. And bright pink,” he added. Andrew narrowed his gaze, but Neil slipped past and made Andrew follow him to the office.   
.  
.  
Andrew locked the door behind them when they entered, and Neil heard the telltale click! of the lock. He thought he would be scared, locked in a room with someone he had met less than two weeks ago, but he wasn’t; there was a wide pane window that Neil could see opened easily, but more than that, he wasn’t afraid of Andrew. Neil sat down in the same chair as last week, and Andrew took the other one on the same side, so that they faced one another again. 

Neil didn’t know if he should say something or another, but he thought it best to stay silent—to let Andrew deal with his past and monsters without Neil interfering. So he didn’t say anything. He could hear the clock on the wall tick, tick with each second going by, but otherwise he just let the lull of silence guide him into a place that he deemed safe. With Andrew. 

He almost didn’t realize when Andrew started to take off his armbands. Neil immediately moved his gaze anywhere but Andrew’s forearms so not to intrude on something so intensely personal and private. So instead his gaze landed on where Andrew had placed the knives hidden in the sleeves of the bands before he had taken off the black material, and then looked at Andrew’s face when he called Neil’s name.

“What?” Neil asked. 

“You can look,” Andrew said, and Neil stared dumbfounded before replying.

“I don’t need to, Andrew. If it’s something you don’t want to share, I have no right. I can just slip the armbands on to see if they would work.”

Andrew closed his eyes briefly, his brow scrunching before he reopened his eyes and said: “No. I… I want you to look.” And so Neil watched Andrew for as long as he could, waiting for any sign of second thoughts, before looking. 

“It’s not pretty, but it’s my life,” Andrew commented as Neil took in Andrew’s scars, and Neil put his hands above Andrew’s forearms, not touching them, but letting his presence be grounding for Andrew like it was for Neil on certain days. 

“It doesn't need to be,” Neil replied, “It shows the demons you have overcome in life.”

Neil didn’t know how long they stayed in that position—facing one another, each so vulnerable—but when a sense of time came back to Neil he retreated his hands, and Andrew lay his arms face down on his legs. But both could feel something change in the air, like a charged storm. It was that heady feeling one felt when in bed, cozy and unable to move even a centimetre; it felt like safety. 

Neil took the armbands and tried them on after rolling up his sleeves, mindful and okay with Andrew seeing a part of his past as well. He knew the armbands were going to be too large on him, but the fabric didn’t agitate his scars, and he felt himself smile at the thought of wearing different clothing for once before taking them off and handing them back to Andrew. 

“I’ll make sure to talk to Allison if she’s still here,” Neil said after Andrew had put his armbands back on. He huffed. 

“Don’t worry, she’s still here.”

Neil smirked. “Great, then I can pick out the perfect shade of pink. Are you thinking neon or pastel?”

“I’m thinking you're more of an idiot everyday.” 

“Hmm, keep talking lazy sloth,” Neil replied, and he was reciprocated with a glare that made him hide another smile behind the back of his hand while his eyes flickered down to Andrew’s lips then back up again. He stood up from his seat and saw that it was past their appointment schedule; a blessing and a curse. Neil knew he had to leave before the next patient came (if Andrew hadn’t scared them all away) but he still felt a sting of disappointment that he had to leave. 

Andrew didn’t say anything as Neil made his way to the door, but before he stepped out he turned to face Andrew once more. “Thank you,” Neil said earnestly. He didn’t stay to see what Andrew said to that.   
.  
.


	5. Scattered and Rebuilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow. It's the final chapter. If you didn't notice, I don't have a chapter summary because I really have no idea to summarize it without giving away anything... 
> 
> Also! Before I leave you to reading this I wanted to say a massive Thank You to everyone who left comments and kudos. Seriously, you are all amazing and I can't convey my gratitude. Okay that's enough from me for now. So I hope you enjoy this last chapter: a little bit of angst mixed with some fluff to end this fic! <3

It was officially his last day of physical therapy, and Neil was glad his coach had spent an exorbitant amount of money on him for it to last almost a full two weeks; his knee hadn’t hurt since he’d returned from the therapy session on Monday, and now two days later he felt as good as before the accident had happened. He was still going to the therapy session today though; he knew he could cancel, but he didn’t want to. It was his last day to see Andrew, and he had gotten him something as well that he hoped he would like. 

He said goodbye to Maurice as he stepped outside into the brisk weather and got into his Uber. The ride there was peaceful, and Neil gripped the gift in his pocket that he had phoned Laila last night and asked if he should give Andrew; she had been ecstatic, as well as Alveraz, and she had made sure that there was room left before he bought it. 

Paying the driver, he stepped out onto the sidewalk; the parking lot looked a little busier than normal, and he wondered if Andrew had a more hectic schedule since this last session between them was supposed to be quicker—more observation based on how he was doing and if there was any lingering pain. He opened the door and was greeted to holiday music over the speakers and a festive Renee putting tinsel up at her desk. 

“What is all this about?” Neil asked as he batted away some ribbon that hung from the ceiling in front of him as he made his way to her desk. Renee smiled sheepishly. 

“It was Allison’s idea. She thought getting everyone in the spirit of the holidays would be a good way to boost morale about their various injuries.”

“It’s not even Thanksgiving yet.”

Renee hummed. “I tried to tell her that, but she wasn’t really in the mood to listen.” 

Neil signed in with a small smile on his lips and went to sit down. Him and his mother had never celebrated holidays while on the run, especially Christmas; it brought back memories for the both of them of ridged parties his father would host and an endless list of rules he would have to follow that Neil never managed to succeed at following. Even in New York he didn’t buy into the holiday cheer; most of the places that put up festivities were just looking to make money, nothing more. But as he looked around the room he found himself not minding the decorations. He knew that the festive feeling was to truthfully make people happier, so it felt different than what he remembered about the holidays; it felt better. 

Neil’s leg bounced with unused energy, and he found that he was nervous to see Andrew again. After they had shared their past— their scars (Andrew’s more than his, but he hoped that could one day change)—he had stopped by Renee’s desk where Allison had seemed to be holding court; she had been resolute with someone on the phone and Neil had had to wait until she ended to call to ask about the armbands. Allison had been ecstatic that he was asking for some sort of clothing item from her brand (even if they were just sleeves) and had looked thoughtful and more pensive about the type of fabric he wanted and the colour. He was surprised by her attentiveness, and he had almost wished he could have stayed longer to talk to her, but his ride was outside by that point, so they switched phone numbers and he went on his way. 

After he had went back to the hotel, his mind had immediately went back to Andrew, and Neil had know the present he had wanted to give him; he had been texting Katelyn and she had mentioned that both Andrew and Aaron had played Exy in college—that was were she had met Aaron—and a light bulb had went off—or…on—in his head. Neil wasn’t an optimistic person; too much had happened to him to instill that anything good might happen to him, but he was hoping that Andrew would like the gift. 

Neil was realizing what Andrew had meant that he was his patient—no relationships—but he hoped that since this was his last appointment, and thus no longer a patient, he could maybe see if Andrew would want to take this present as a first date.

As if summoned, Andrew appeared around the corner in his usual attire; there was a cowlick in the back of his head that stuck out, making it seem to Neil that he had just rolled out of bed, which could have been entirely plausible. Neil heard Renee laugh as Andrew ran into one of the garlands that hung from the ceiling—way too low, Neil thought, if Andrew could reach it—and Andrew muttered something about not letting Allison back in the building which caused Neil to smile. Andrew didn’t look his way, odd since he thought they would acknowledge each other at least, but he stood up anyway and followed Andrew back toward his office, shutting the door once they both entered. 

Andrew sat behind his desk, more austerely than usual; it made Neil nervous. It felt like there was a stone in his stomach, weighing him down. “How is your knee?” Andrew asked as he looked over Neil’s papers on his desk. It felt like a facsimile of the first time they had met, albeit this time time Andrew was talking somewhat.

“Um, good,” Neil responded, shifting his weight in his seat and fidgeting with his shirt-sleeves; he had given Andrew’s jacket back to him on Monday, but he wished he would have kept it. It was comfortable, and it reminded him of Andrew and good memories, which was especially helpful when his anxiety grew. 

Andrew looked from his papers to Neil. “Then why, pray tell, did you come in?”

Neil was nonplussed at Andrew’s question, and opened his mouth to say something, anything—that this appointment was supposed to be a checkup ,or a joke that he came in because Andrew opened the door for him—but he couldn’t properly think; all that was going through his mind was that, now that he got a good look at Andrew, he didn’t seem to want to even look at Neil. 

Neil thought about all their past encounters and things he could have said or done to make Andrew converse with him like this, but his mind came up blank like the fresh falling snow that was starting to land outside on the ground—white and clean of everything.

“I, um,” Neil started, as Andrew readjusted his glasses and continued to watch him silently, “I was still scheduled for this day.” 

“You could have called and canceled,” Andrew remarked, stoic and board-looking. Neil’s mind was still scrambling to figure out what was going on.

“Wait. Do you not want me here?” Neil question. It was tinged with hopelessly. Sitting up in his seat Neil felt for the gift with his right hand that was still stuffed inside his pocket, holding onto the item he had gotten Andrew not twenty-four hours before. 

“I don’t have an opinion on who’s here if they are my patient, but since it seems that your leg is causing you no trouble, then I don’t see why this session wasn’t cancelled so I could actually do something productive.”

Neil winced as if he had been hit, and he thought he saw something shift minutely in Andrew’s countenance, but it was fleeting, and Neil chalked it up to his slowly dying hope that he had seen something. 

“This isn’t productive, talking to your patient?”

“If I wanted to talk, I would have become a psychiatrist. This is merely wasting my skills and, though paying the bills, a banal chat,” Andrew said resoundly, and Neil thought he felt his stomach bottom out, his throat close, and he choked out a laugh. 

‘Of course,’ he thought as he regained his breathing somewhat, ‘the one person I have ever been attracted to actually wants nothing to do with me.’

“Well,” Neil said standing up on shaky leg, glad his knee was better so he could run as fucking fast out of this place as he wanted to, “I’m glad you didn’t lie when you said you hated me, even though I hoped differently.” He pivoted to the door and opened it, turning his head over his shoulder to say one last thing to Andrew before he never saw him again in the most sarcastic voice he could muster—never mind the pain underneath every syllable and so full of truth that it almost tore him apart— “Oh, and thank you for everything. You were amazing.” 

The door slammed shut, almost rattling on its hinges, and Neil didn’t look back.  
.  
.  
Neil was laid out on his couch, Sir making a sort of nest on his chest; she had been very insistent at being around him at all times since he had arrived back at home a few hours ago. He absent-mindedly petted her as he watched Laila flutter around his apartment. She had rushed over right away with Sir when he called and said he was back, and now she boiled water and got out two tea bags for their drinks. Neil hadn’t said anything about what happened with Andrew, but she knew something was up by the way he had shook his head when she had asked earlier, and Neil knew he had to tell her. 

Laila finished the tea and brought a cup over to him, he lifted his head to take a sip—making sure none spilt on Sir—and put it down on the floor next to the couch. Laila situated herself against the side of the couch, leaning her head against Neil’s legs. He had missed this.

“Thank you for watching Sir,” Neil said. She didn’t seem to have gained much weight, though he knew his vet was going to have a field day when it was time to take her in next week for a check-up. “I hope she didn’t bother you too much.”

Laila smiled. “Not at all, though I do have a list of her favorite foods now.” Neil groaned and Laila laughed, “I couldn’t help it,” she said, “ not with all the different cat foods that were at the store for me to buy her.”

“So you’re saying that regular dry food won’t work anymore.” 

“Precisely,” Laila said before taking a sip of her drink. “At least you have a well paying job.” 

Neil pushed Laila in the side with his foot to show his disapproval about this sequence of events, but Laila just elbowed his leg back—his good one, though he supposed because of him they were both perfectly fine now—and made herself comfortable. Sir meowed at the lack of attention she was receiving, and Neil hushed her as he took a sip of his tea again. 

“Neil,” Laila started, and his stomach clenched, “what happened with Andrew?” 

Neil sighed. “I don’t know,” he started, “I thought we were friends, at least, but when I went to my last appointment he… was so abhorrent to me. He said he didn’t know why I was there if not for my leg; it was like the past weekend never happened. Like us,” Neil swallowed, “sharing our past meant nothing to him.” 

Neil felt like he was choking, and he realized that he was holding back tears; he had never cried before, not even when his mom died. That had been a hazy, surreal feeling when he had burned her body; this was an all consuming void, because Neil liked Andrew, or thought he had, and he hadn’t been scared of Neil’s past—or at least the little that Neil had told him. 

Laila scooted over and lay a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay,” she whispered, “It might not feel like that right now, or for however long, but this is fleeting. And if he can’t appreciate you, then fuck him.” 

Neil choked on a laugh as tears silently trekked down his face, and Laila wrapped him in a hug. They stayed like that for what Neil thought felt like hours, warm and safe and grounded, but Laila soon pulled back with a slight smile. “Sorry,” she said, “someone wants to get in here.” 

Neil looked down to see that Sir was pawing at his chest, wanting to see what was wrong. Neil bent his head down and mashed his face into Sir’s fur, feeling the warmth of both her and his best friend next to him. 

The rest of the night progressed with less emotions, but still comforting. Neil said goodbye to Laila as she left to head back to her apartment to sleep; the team did have a game tomorrow, and she needed to get a few hours if she was to hold the team together while Neil decided to “slack on the bench”. Coach Melfield had called him in between the time Neil had called Laila earlier and her arriving, and said Neil would stay out of this game, but would resume practice right away on Monday. Neil was excited to finally be back playing Exy. It would help his mind stay focused and not wander to a certain blond that currently held Neil’s heart in pieces. 

He woke on Friday morning with Sir pawing at him to feed her, and reluctantly padded to the kitchen and poured out her food. Neil almost laughed at the way she looked, palpably eating the dry food with a disdained look he didn’t even know a cat could make, and Neil promised her he would switch to the food Laila had been buying her while he had been away. He trundled back into his bedroom and got dressed, putting on an Exy sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. 

Going back into the kitchen, he washed the dishes from the night before, and put on a new kettle for tea. As he was waiting for it to boil, he heard his phone ding, and went to grab it from the coffee-table where he had left it last night. Picking it up, he saw that it was a message from Katelyn.

Katelyn: Hey! We just got into our hotel room. Can’t wait for the game tonight :)  
.  
.  
Neil believed himself to be methodical, astute; and he was, but he was also impulsive and rash. After he had left Andrew’s office and out of the building (with Renee calling out to him a goodbye with a knowing look that something had happened) Neil had booked it back to the hotel. He had moped around the room for the rest of the day, ordering from the kitchen and having Maurice bring it up, and putting on a rerun of an Exy game he had missed the night before between the Pirates and the Falcons. He didn’t even realize he had called Katelyn until she answered. 

“Hello?”

“Oh, hi Katelyn. It’s Neil.”

“Neil!” Katelyn said with jubilee in her voice, “What are you up to? Are you out and about with Andrew?” 

Neil tried to respond to that last question, tried to tamper down the pain that he felt; it was worse than one of his father’s knives. “No, I’m at the hotel. I was wondering, would you like to come to our game this Friday,” he asked as he paved a path through his hotel room from his bed to his bathroom and back again. 

“Oh, um. Sure! Would it just be me or…”

“No, it’s three tickets. Box seating—the closest you can get to the bench, and the best seats in my opinion,” Neil added, finally sitting down on his bed. He was hoping for this, that Katelyn would say yes, otherwise he would have to sell the tickets quickly or throw them away. “I also have the flights and the hotel booked, so all you have to do is show up.”

“Can I ask a question? Was this originally for Andrew?” Neil froze at the question, but Katelyn’s voice didn’t harbor anything in it except pure curiosity, and Neil relented. 

“Yeah, um. It was.”

“I figured. I mean, I know we hit it off during lunch, but I thought this was a little over-the-top,” she said, and Neil gave a slight laugh, and then sighed. 

“Me and Andrew had… a disagreement during my last session, and so I never got around to giving him the tickets, and since he doesn’t want to see me I thought you would like them.”

“Neil, I’m sure that’s not what Andrew thinks of you. But,” Katelyn said before Neil could intercede on that statement, with a comforting voice that made him want to break down, “of course I’ll come. It will be fun!”

“Thank you,” he said, “I didn’t want them to go to waste.”  
.  
.  
Neil watched with a small smile of trepidation on his lips as Laila corralled the team into warm-ups. He knew that this was probably what she had done last week while he was away, but it didn’t make him any less amused by the amount of both loyalty and fear she instilled in their other teammates. Neil thought she would make a good politician. 

They had all greeted him when he had arrived earlier, telling him their woes and troubles without him playing beside them, this bastard sport they all loved without their main striker. He had never thought himself very important—due to his father almost physically cutting out of him any and all self esteem—but with his teammates around he let them talk. It helped with his anxiety of not being on the court tonight, and moved his thoughts away from a certain person. 

Laila came up to him as the team started their second to last drill, putting her arm on his shoulder since she was taller than him by two inches. “They look pretty good, right?” She asked as they watched them. He really didn’t know how Laila and he had gotten picked to lead the team as captain and co-captain, but he never took it for granted. 

“I think they’re more afraid of messing up than putting in any actual effort to be this good. Have you seen the fear in their eyes? The last time I’ve ever seen anyone this scared was when I broke a rib during practice and insisted that I was fine.”

Laila snorted. “Which you were most definitely not.” 

“We can agree to disagree on that one.” 

Laila lightly punched him in the arm, and they both smiled at one another before she went back out to help with the warm up.

“Josten.” Neil heard his name called out and turned around to see his coach coming to stand by him where he was situated; he had stolen the side of the court right next to the benches to have a better view than he would if the plexi-glass was in front him. 

“Yes coach?” Neil said. Coach Melfield had been relieved and happy that Neil was feeling better, and said he could be on court as long as he didn’t touch a racket, which he hadn’t yet; it was a feat Neil was pretty proud of. 

“There’s someone here to see you. Actually, a couple people.”

Neil nodded at that, and stepped off the court and into the hallway toward the lounge area. He had told Katelyn that there would be two bodyguards at the building’s entrance that would take them in so he could show them to their seats since he couldn’t play, and also so he could personally say hello and get his sleeves that he had asked Allison to send with Katelyn. 

He entered the room to indistinct chatter, which fell flat as they saw him. Five of them. 

He had only bought three tickets. 

His confusion was put to the back burner when he took in who it was. Katelyn was at the forefront, holding hands with Aaron. Neil had been expecting him, even though Katelyn had said he didn’t care much for Exy; he had thought that since Aaron had played Exy in college—albeit for a scholarship that he desperately needed—that he would be at least semi-interested in coming to a game, and he was correct. Katelyn walked over to him and gave him a hug, something he didn’t know he needed until he was wrapping his arms back around her. When he let go, his eyes met with Aaron's, who nodded at him; it seemed a better start to them meeting than the first time. 

When Katelyn stepped farther back he saw a flash of golden-blond hair behind her, and he was greeted by a smiling Allison who was holding hands with Renee. He immediately realized who had bought the extra tickets, and Allison knew that he knew, so she just shrugged and said: “I wanted to see how your team plays, cutie. Though I’m disappointed that you're not playing. Did the monster not do his job well enough?”

Renee chided her, and that remark made his brain remember that there were five people in this room besides him. Neil looked to the back corner by the couch and saw Andrew staring at the various pictures hanging up on the walls, his back facing the rest of them. He heard Renee say in a quieter tone something about space, and when he finally looked around the four of them were gone, leaving only him and Andrew in the room. 

When he didn’t hear any voices down the hallway, he slowly made his way across the room to where Andrew was. He didn’t know how to start the conversation, especially since it wasn’t him who needed to apologize, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to tackle Andrew into a hug or at least hold his hand—something to tell him that he wasn’t hallucinating. Because Andrew had basically and ruthlessly told him he didn’t want to see Neil again, yet here he was. 

He finally ended up by Andrew; shoulder to shoulder, a few feet apart, they both were looking at the various photos tacked up: his teammates, newspaper articles, various cards and drawings from fans. Neil always felt an indescribable feeling when he looked at all of it, like he couldn’t believe people actually knew him, or at least the version of him he wanted to be, and cared about him in some way. It made all those years of pain and running somewhat bearable, to know that he was here now.

Neil caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Andrew fishing something out of his jacket pocket; it was two sets of armbands. The first set was a plain, pure black colour, while the other was a vibrant pink like he had joked with Andrew about in the office two days before Andrew had broken his heart. He hadn’t told Allison about the colour—he had just allowed her to take measurements for his arms, letting her see the scars that she hadn’t fussed over but merely stated that she had some scar cream if they ever irritated the rest of his skin. Andrew looked down at the sleeves, and then handed them over to Neil silently; Neil took them reverently into his hands, and stared at them like they were an olive branch (he hoped they were).

“You know why I took this job, to help people and kids that feel like they are broken when they aren’t, to be a light for them. But I also took this job to look after my brother,” Andrew started, and Neil looked up to finally take in Andrew’s appearance, his tired eyes, “and after he found Katelyn I was adrift. I didn’t know what exactly to do, and I knew I was too brutish, too myself to allow anyone to know me and actually like me. But then you came.” 

Andrew turned toward Neil, and for the first time Neil could remember, he saw warmth in Andrew’s eyes. It was stunning, and Neil could only stare as Andrew continued on. 

“I didn’t hate you at first. You were bearable, and I could deal with that. But then you made fun of my brother’s shit taste in music,” Neil smiled, “and then you made fun of me without any fear in your eyes, and you were who you wanted to be around me, and I hated you.” Andrew stated, with an undertone of anger Neil found that wasn’t directed at him, but at Andrew himself. “And then you showed me your past, whatever little bit I asked for, and your scars.”

Neil froze, watching Andrew; they hadn’t talked about his scars—however little he had shown him—because they never had the time before everything went up in flames. And now Neil didn’t know what Andrew was going to say, because Andrew kept surprising him with a different piece of himself that he didn’t yet know, but wanted to. 

“I realized that I had to make you hate me, because if not, then I was going to fall for you harder than I already was. Because you had the same fears as me, and trusted me enough to show me your heart, and I didn’t know what to do.” 

Andrew finished, and Neil’s head was abuzz, his heart pounding. Andrew was looking at Neil, and Neil heard the unsaid words that Andrew had put into every individual word he had just said but could never say aloud. 

‘I’m sorry’

Neil came closer and opened his hand, palm up, and looked at Andrew. Andrew stared down, and slowly grasped Neil’s hand in his own, entwining their fingers like a complicated version of cat’s cradle. “I don’t care what you believe about yourself, because I know the truth. You are the one that showed me your heart, and didn’t care what I did with it. But I care, because it is the most wonderful thing anyone has ever given me in my life,” Neil said in a whisper voice, barely audible above the sound of the buzzer going off that signal ten-minutes before the game started. 

“Softie,” Andrew said in a mocking tone that held no malice.

“Sloth,” Neil replied with a smile.

“Idiot,” Andrew finished, and Neil nodded a yes before Andrew leaned in to kiss him; It was everything that Neil had ever wanted, imagined—everything he never thought he would get someday.

When they broke apart, Neil was still gripping Andrew’s hand like it was a life line, and he vowed to never let go. “So, let me get this straight—which I’m definitely not,” Neil tacked on, which made Andrew raise his eyebrow at that fairly obvious statement, but Neil smile nonetheless. “You’ve been in love with me ever since I belittled your brother’s taste in music?” 

Andrew huffed and flicked him in the forehead with his free hand. “If that’s all you got out of that conversation, then you’re more of an idiot than I imagined.” 

Neil laughed. “Don’t worry. I seem to recall a thing or two more of what you said to me, and gave me” he said to him as he untangled his hand from Andrews and put on his new pink armbands, which stood out against the fairly depressing colour scheme in the room. He looked up to see Andrew giving him a look that clearly said he was an idiot for wanting that colour, but he still reached out and grabbed Neil’s hand once again, the imprint of Andrew’s hand already outlined on his own palm. They stood there in the comfortable silence of their new reality until they heard Neil’s teammates coming down the hall to go over plays one last time. He realized that his past, present, and future were all in one place. And more than that, he was at peace.

.  
.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come bother me if you wish on Tumblr at city-of-paper-and-ink <3

**Author's Note:**

> If your bored I can be found on tumblr at [Link text](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/city-of-paper-and-ink) (city-of-paper-and-ink) if you have any suggestions for other fics or if you just want to talk!


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